


A Kaiserin's Post-Living Arrangements

by LordCaelum



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, 幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil (Anime), 幼女戦記 | Youjo Senki | Saga of Tanya the Evil - Carlo Zen (Light Novels)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 277,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordCaelum/pseuds/LordCaelum
Summary: Tanya learns that death is most certainly not the end. A Fate/Tanya crossover derived from the ever excellent A Young Woman's Political Record by jacobk, operating with the assumption of the Fate series in the world than Tanya had shaped in life.
Comments: 98
Kudos: 243





	1. 1.0 Initialization

I always imagined that I'd die in the most wretched of circumstances.

It wasn't hard to imagine, in any case. My first life had been pleasant enough, but its end showed me that no matter how safe one could imagine themselves to be, how supreme one's position in life, all it took was a moment's inattention and a suicidal idiot to ensure all that safety came crashing down. That I spent the majority of my next year's formative years as a child soldier only really solidified that lesson. One does not spend all those years fighting without some of those lessons getting pummeled into your skull. I could only thank the fact that I still remembered my past life, otherwise I'd be some terribly unhinged war-freak of a person.

Toyed with by Being X, thrown into war, my country plunged into war and destitution. Really, only an idiot would expect a pleasant death in any of those circumstances. The best I could have achieved, especially during those days in the front-line, would have been to die with my unit. I knew better than to expect clemency from those that called me the Devil of the Rhine after all, I couldn't very well surrender. Perhaps at the beginning, when all they knew of me was a brave girl fighting for her life, though the period between that supposedly innocent girl and her more fearsome reputation after the fact was astonishingly short. Leave it to Being X to close any possible loopholes to a comfortable life.

Then even after the war, when the entirety of Germania went mad and put their hopes and dreams upon me, Being X toyed with me. I had thought nothing of its silence at the time, it had often waited until the perfect moment to unleash its next challenge upon me. What did it matter that the silence stretched from months to years, years to decades, decades until the end of my life. I had to be vigilant, constantly doing my best, ensuring that I didn't let my guard down at all, that I didn't allow myself to relax. I knew that the moment I believed it would all be over, the moment I thought I'd be safe, the trap would be sprung and all of my work, my entire country, would come crumbling beneath my feet.

The silence stretched on, and I did my work for Germania, even if, in all honesty, I might not have been the best suited to carrying it out. The people thought well of me, in general I suppose, and so I was encouraged to carry on. They believed in me something more than what I truly was, so I shrugged, left them to their own devices and carried on.

Yet despite that, that treacherous voice hovered at the back of my mind. That perhaps it had already forgotten about me. Perhaps it would be safe to just relax, even for a moment? My country was strong again, after all, not even he could create a miracle that could crush my people in a single night. Even if it threw some terrifyingly horrible problem at my head, I could bounce back. I could fight whatever that bastard had to throw at me, I had to.

So I crushed that whisper, turned my mind to metal and wheels, and I carried on.

I carried on for years. Decades. Waiting patiently for the day it would all come crashing down, and karma would come for the Devil of the Rhine. A person that had done as I did, killed as I did, deserved no mercy of course. I would not give Being X the satisfaction of seeing me beg again as I did with his previous challenge, but I would not resent any that came for me due to my own actions. It would only be reasonable after all, though knowing how Being X operated, perhaps it would empower them as it did Mary, all those years ago. In such an event, in the event that I failed, I only wished those that sided with me would be not fall with me.

Years turned to decades. Decades turned into a lifetime. That wretched death failed to materialize.

Even in my last moments, with Visha and all the rest by my side, I could hardly believe it. The world had long stopped calling me the Devil of the Rhine by this point, or at least stopped saying it within earshot. Instead they called me by a variety of extravagant titles that I honestly didn't see the point of. The Silver Chancellor, the Argent Princess, the Kaiserin in more conservative circles. All ridiculous. It didn't really matter, I thought. Their belief was useful in a way, even though I hardly understood why they sought to put me on such a pillar.

I can't remember, now, what my last thought was as I died. I remembered a murmur, a whisper, the urge to sleep finally upon me. I felt soft hands on mine, remarkably gentle, as though afraid I would break. That peaceful death I imagined was long beyond my reach, finally granted. I was finally safe.

...

And that was when that bastard Being X finally made it's move.

* * *

_**The Gate of Heaven Swings Shut** _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The initial seed of this idea was conceived of and posted on Spacebattles, and as such the initial upload of the piece will also include all posts as of the most recent update on that site. After that, posting frequency will be done once a week or so, though there have been occasions of longer delays. The initial upload on this site will involve the first four chapters, including this one, followed by an update daily until we reach parity with the chapters posted on Spacebattles.
> 
> In the interest of context, this story is based on the fic A Young Woman's Political Record by jacobk. While I would not say that familiarity with that story is a necessity to understanding the events of this fic, understanding Youjo Senki would be. This fic presupposes that Tanya, upon the conclusion of both the Great War and the Second War after that, led Germania and a unified Europe into an age of prosperity. As a consequence, for her achievements in life she was installed upon the Throne of Heroes on death, where our story begins.


	2. 1.1

**1.1**

The world around me was white and blinding. That voice echoing again and again in my skull, like some klaxon that grew louder and louder with each iteration. The words were simple and repetitive, and while it had sounded pleasant the first time I heard of it, I was much less enthused by now.

Time in that place had no meaning, or so it had been explained to me. I suppose that could have been construed as a good thing for some. I'm sure plenty of my new coworkers had pleasant experiences in their lives that allowed them all the time in the world to reminisce and daydream. Unfortunately, some of us still had a metaphorical foot in the real world and couldn't spend their days wiling away in self indulgent naval gazing.

Unbidden, I remember another voice, a different voice, one that had greeted me as I first entered that timeless place. Familiar, amused and infinitely more irritating than the current voice ever could be.

_'Consider this a reward. A gift to my most reliable, bloodthirsty, apostle.'_

Bile crept up my throat, and for once that irritating chant sounded like music to my ears. Loud and unnecessary though it may be, it was like Beethoven's symphony compared to even the memory of his voice.

The light began to fade, the colors beginning to manifest in my eyes as something more than blinding white. I closed my eyes shut, squeezing away the foolish impulses, the tears that threatened to form as some part of foolish biological impulses that no longer applied to something like me.

I would get out of this, I would win. I had to.

* * *

**I**

* * *

The first thing I did when I 'woke up', after performing the required greetings and some chit chat to get myself more aware of the current situation, was to run to a computer.

I imagined that in and of itself was not a typical reaction. Of course, all of us 'Servants' had been implanted with the memories and necessary information to survive in the modern world; of all the things a Servant was likely to do upon solidifying our oath, running to the nearest computer was not one of them. The crystallization of useful information within our memories meant that even such a wonderful thing as a modern computer would be rendered dull and inconsequential. That crystallization was a useful tool, considering that if it wasn't present that the buffoons of the ancient world would walk around major highways staring at Toyotas with the wonder and fear of a small child. I wondered, briefly, whether that mechanism was always there. Heroic Spirits existed far beyond the farce that was the Holy Grail War after all, and perhaps adjustment towards our mental state had to occur sometime around the Roman or Medieval era?

Nonetheless, the thought was an unnecessary one. I usually wasn't like this, but perhaps the years it had been since I've touched a real computer had been more burdensome on me than I thought. Papers and maps and other physical information was all well and good, and certainly had its advantages compared to digital, but one just couldn't compare the beauty and elegance of integrated circuits and combined cyberspace to pieces of dead trees.

That is to say, that's what I would have thought, until I found myself staring at what could charitably be called a few steps above a calculator. It was old, even by the standards of this age, possibly one of the first personal computers commercially available even. I gritted my teeth, attempting to suppress any sign of disappointment. It would not do to disappoint my Master on the first day after all, especially not when he seemed so proud of it.

"Isn't it magnificent?" he sighed, proud of the machine in front of me. I wasn't entirely sure of the world's technological level, my own efforts meant that the tech tree of my original world and this one may not necessarily be the same. Still, he couldn't possibly be…

"I inherited it from my father. A curious device, wouldn't you say?"

"It's…something, Master." I said, turning my head towards the blonde haired, bronze skinned man with the ridiculous name. Atreas-something. "Is there something wrong with the internet connection? I can't access the net for some reason."

He graced me with a confused expression. "Internet? What's that?"

It took all of my not inconsiderate willpower to not sigh at the man's ignorance. Really? We lived in the modern world, with modern conveniences and modern standards of living. Why must these infernal mages insist on living like barbarians. I'd put in enough efforts to give those yokels in Germania television, why is it that in the 21st century some among our species still believed in living as though the height of technology was the printing press?

Admittedly, this one wasn't so bad. If anything he'd been telling me about this Clock Tower was true, then that would mean some would consider even the printing press too modern for their again, should I have expected anything better from the Albionese?

Atriarch-something began speaking again, his voice boisterous. "In any case, you will find that we have a significant amount of information about Fuyuki City itself. House Galliasta had done a significant amount of research since Lord El-Melloi's failure during the last war, and we will not commit the same mistakes he did back then. After all, we both have the same objective here, to win the Holy Grail."

At the mention of the Holy Grail, I nodded. The idea of an omnipotent wish granting device was an astoundingly silly one, if any of these Einzberns or Tohsakas had approached me with the idea in life I would have laughed in their face. As I was now though, it served as my only possible salvation from the eternal hell that faced me. I continued studying through the files he had here, trying not to pay attention to him. I suppressed a sigh.

Perhaps it wasn't entirely fair of me, but I'd been irritated at this so called mage since the moment he introduced himself. Supposedly, his family was Germania-born, yet sometime after the end of the First War they'd up and left to Albion of all places. I was not the most patriotic of people of course, if it had been left up to me and without incurring any of the potential consequences from such an act, I would have fled from my first taste of live combat. On top of that it was never his decision to abandon my country after all, that would be his…parents? Grandparents? Nonetheless, that a Germanian mage family abandoned their country to make nice with other Albion mages infuriated something in me.

Or perhaps it was just this new society of underground mages. What was up with that, honestly? Did Germania have something like that, some Germanian mage club hidden beneath all the Würstchen stands? If I'd been sitting on hundreds of extra mages that my intelligence services never knew about then I would be very irritated at Elya.

Nonetheless, I suppressed all these thoughts and turned towards Albert-something. "Of course, Master. The Holy Grail will be ours, as per our contract. I would like to take a look at the building we currently reside in. Our greatest weakness is a surprise assault on your person, and I would like to ensure that our defenses are up to an acceptable standard."

Aldwin-something seemed taken aback at that, but nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief at that, at least he wasn't incompetent enough to stop me from doing my job.

* * *

**II**

* * *

The building itself was…strange.

Not so much the construction, that was almost heartrendingly familiar. Mankind's brilliant ode to the value generating efficiency of capitalism, the construction composed of steel and concrete. It was an affront to all those legends, of those haughty gods of Olympus and Mankind's hubris upon Babel. All those buildings and constructs I lived back in my second life were pleasant enough, but none could match the glory and pure joy in my heart upon setting my eyes on a modern skyscraper.

I sighed, the warmth of my breath fogging the air in front of me. No, my concern was something else entirely.

I'd commissioned clothing from Alex-something's playthings. The girls that walked around as his eye candy; I'd expect his paramours to have a collection of clothing for me to wear. I was not particularly defensive of my body like I knew other girls would be; in the first place, psychologically speaking I wouldn't identify as feminine in the first place. Still as I stared at myself in front of the dressing room mirror, from an objective, measured, perspective I think I was acceptable. I was no longer as small as I was during my active duty on the front-line, but neither did I retain the elderly body I'd possessed as I expired. No, my body now would be more akin to an idealized version of myself in my early twenties, one that had the proper nutrition and sustenance necessary for a growing body.

My hair was largely the same as it was during my military days, though perhaps slightly longer, with the ponytail atop it was matching my hair's new length. I was definitely taller, though still not by a lot, and if I was to hazard my rough height I would describe it as roughly zero point nine of a Visha. For some confounded reason my….assets were more expansive, and I was certain that I'd jump a breast cup or two from my transformation. Beyond that though my body was less skinny overall, as though it had been fed a civilian diet instead of military rations over the course of my formative years. Muscle definition had correspondingly degraded, yet judging from the way the doorknob bent when I squeezed it earlier, I was stronger now than when I was alive, though not by a lot.

The clothes I had been summoned in were strange and ridiculous, a phenomenon I could only blame on Being X. The general color palette trended towards the darker hues, resembling the red, green and black of the Imperial uniform. My clothing seemed to be a stylized mismatch of my attire in those days viewed through the lens of one who'd never set foot inside a military camp. I had my cap in my days as a Major, and after testing it the cap seemed almost unusually fond of my head, refusing to part with it unless I pulled it off personally. Black gloves covered my hands along with a matching dark grey dress that was somehow both reminiscent of what I wore in public as Chancellor and yet totally separate from it. No longer a simple ensemble, if one could create clothing fit for both a high society gathering and a military excursion, this was what it would look like. A black long coat hanged over the entire ensemble, reaching past my knees, same as my dress, whereupon I had a pair of combat boots.

To say I was irritated at the design would be an understatement, yet despite that there was nothing I could do to change it. I had remarked to the Master's playthings whether they had any clothes suitable for walking about in public. Unexpectedly though, it seemed that my Master had prepared civilian clothes for me to wear. A white dress, a thicker jacket, some shoes. I accepted them graciously and wore them as I dissipated my regular outfit. No reason to be mean to the help after all.

It wasn't so much that I needed clothes. I was a so-called Heroic Spirit now after all, I could be invisible, I had my own clothes (ridiculous though they may be) and to restrict myself to human movements and limitations was an unnecessary restriction on tactical capability. Of course, in an actual combat scenario, I would abandon these trappings of mortality in a heartbeat to deal with the threat; but perhaps foolishly, I wanted to hang on to something even a little bit familiar.

Anyway, that was an unnecessary tangent. The building was, as I was saying, strange.

I was familiar with magecraft, of course. The mathematical formulas necessary in operating a computation orb had, by the end of my life, been as familiar to me as my own name. Protection, amplification, flight, destruction all of that and more, I had mastered them all. I was aware that, in my capabilities as a Heroic Spirit, all those were amplified, though I wasn't sure by how much yet. It would be rude to test my power by blowing up my Master's dwelling after all.

What I'm trying to say is, I know my stuff. Despite that, staring at my Master's skyscraper left me confused.

Able-something had told me that he'd enacted protection unto the skyscraper. Something about a similar tactic he knew someone in the last war committing, though he promised that he'd mixed things up a bit compared to that loser. He'd reinforced the foundations and added his own traps all relating to that family specialty of his.

None of it made sense to me.

The magical constructions and formulas were plain as day, there was a logic to it, it wasn't completely outside my realm of understanding. It was definitely magecraft, but it wasn't the kind of magecraft that I was familiar with. I stared at the protections and algorithms with a confused expression; it was as though an earthling and a venusian had sat down and begun explaining each other's mathematical equations and principles. There would be similarities, there would be things and expressions that were tantalizingly familiar, but it wouldn't stop the fact that it was written in this damn strange venusian script that didn't make any sense!

I sighed. Could it be that my Master was unique in this regard, and that all magecraft was so strange? Knowing my luck, probably not.

I looked around, suppressing that wave of nostalgia that once again threatened to overwhelm me. I'd have plenty enough time for sightseeing later, but currently we were in somewhat dangerous circumstances.

First order of business was securing our headquarters. From what I understood, there was a wealth of magical and technological resources invested into the building, so ensuring it was all protected was of vital importance. My current form allowed some degree of flexibility on that, so I began working on it as I thought.

The mechanics of my class had something akin to a form of Territory Creation, and I utilized it liberally to protect the skyscraper. In my case, it involved a little bit of blood, so I manifested a knife to carry out the operation as quickly as possible. It didn't take very long, especially when one was capable of flying; a fortunate ability that had made its way into my capabilities.

My capabilities, that was an interesting thought. For the most part, much of what I could do in life I could do better in my pseudo-death. I had an intellectual understanding of my abilities, what I could do, what I could not do, what was limited to me via my classification, which meant I wouldn't be running into this war blind at least. Despite that, understanding what I could do and experiencing it was something entirely different. On my very first chance I'd need to go out and see how it would work in a practical environment.

Not that I intended to go out and pick a fight though, I knew what I was after all. My class was not suited to front line operations, though I had my own personal misgivings about that. Rather, I knew I couldn't do something crazy like lock blades with whoever the Saber was in this war, but surely I could do more than just cower in the dark like some mangy Assassin? My mana supply was adequate, all without praising Being X's name thankfully, but all that meant nothing if I was to expend it all on wasteful strategies.

I was no longer the 'big fish' in the pond, so I had to think about things more carefully.

Finally, I was done with my task. I stood upon the top of my skyscraper, blood allocated into strategic positions as I watched over the entirety of Fuyuki City. It was a strange place, I hadn't recalled a city by this name in my original life, and in my previous one I just never really had an opportunity to visit the Akinese. Despite that, every step in this place filled me with a strange nostalgia I couldn't resist, and I sighed.

Damn Being X for doing this to me. Haven't I suffered enough?

My eyes scanned over the horizon, magical energy crackling around me as I improved my ability to see. A minor but necessary ability as a Mage, the power expanded my sight beyond what I was used to as my own proficiency as a Caster amplified the spell beyond what a mortal could do. I suppressed any feelings of vertigo that might erupt; it would only be psychosomatic, I didn't have a physical body to get sick with after all.

Battles couldn't be won by simply standing still and waiting, ask the Francois how well that worked out for them. The battlefield would greatly influence the flow of any war to occur within the city, and whereas with traditional combat I would be concerned with things like higher ground and a clear line of fire, Servants would have much different priorities.

My eyes caught sight of something interesting. Yes, that would do nicely.

_'Master. I intend to do some reconnaissance in the city, I'll meet with you later.'_

The response was a bit later than I expected, but I heard it eventually. _'Very well. Once you return, we'll have things to discuss.'_

After giving the affirmative, I stepped over the edge. The wind rushed through my hair, the familiar sensation of being adrift and falling down to earth a nearly nostalgic feeling to me. I disappeared well before I hit the ground, of course; my physical form disintegrating as I made my way to that faraway temple on the mountain.


	3. 1.2

**1.2**

It was nice and cool as I set foot into Ryuudou Temple, the first temple I'd set foot it in…say, the better part of a century? The collective years from both my lives anyway, I hadn't exactly had an easy opportunity to just drop on by while I was in Germania after all, and while I knew a place like this wasn't exactly somewhere Being X would reside in…

It was still somewhat irritating, regardless, to know that he possibly could.

I made my way through the place in my civilian clothes, dropping by and observing the nearby bystanders. They really weren't at the top of my objectives list, but what I was doing here didn't need the active participation of my body. Even as I stared at the people around me, wandering about while visibly trying to remember what exactly one was supposed to do in a temple, my mind's eye was was studying the ley lines below it.

This place was so outrageously rich in magical potential I could scarcely believe that the people around me couldn't feel it. Dead to magic that they were, surely they had to feel something. In comparison, using my computation orb as it expelled the comparatively modest amount of magical energy I could bring to bear in life had left it hot to the touch. If I had to compare the same experience to merely standing on the temple, it would be like staring into the heart of the sun.

Magic power and mana and how they interacted was still somewhat new to me, considering that they operated on completely different principles than what I was used to. Despite that, I understood some basics. Human mages couldn't simply dip into the leylines and withdraw infinite power, if for no other reason than if they could then this entire mountaintop would be a fortified base for one of the three families; I wouldn't have been able to make it this far without running into a dozen magical deathtraps or defenses most likely. On the other hand, leylines were valuable in that they could be utilized for other purposes. They were essentially magical power plants and had to be treated as such. If one had the knowledge or capability, one could tap into the leylines as an independent power source as well as a means to fuel spells. I believe that, assuming I understood the mechanics of this war right, the leylines would be where this Holy Grail would manifest from.

However, there was no rule saying that we couldn't mess around with those leylines. If they could be bent towards the purpose of completing the Holy Grail ritual, then they could be bent to carry out other spells as well shouldn't they? And of all the Servants, it would be Casters like me that could best utilize such an advantage. Not that the other Servants wouldn't be able to use it as well, especially with the vast potential the Ryuudou Temple seemed to have, but comparing what I could do versus say, a Lancer, would be laughable. Like comparing one of my 203rd with a Francois colonial mage.

What to do with this place though? I had to think quickly, each second that ticked by meant that it was more and more likely the opposition would stumble upon such a perfect resource. On top of all that I'd said, the temple was a natural fortress, positioned right atop the mountain with a bird's eye view of the surrounding area. To make matters worse, any Master operating in this area worth their salt would have scouted out possible advantageous locations already, so would likely already have known about this place. Which meant I had two real options.

The first and most appealing on the surface would be to take advantage of the temple while I still could. Set up a base here, siphon the deep well of magical energy for my own devices and use it as a bludgeon against every other target I could reach. I could only imagine what I could do with such power; translating it into when I was still alive, I could have probably flatten Fuyuki twice over and still have room to spare, never mind as a Caster.

I gritted my teeth. Which was exactly the problem. If the opposition learned that a Caster had taken residence in the temple, that would serve as an existential threat for the rest of the war. Alliances would from between people that, if left to their own devices, would be quite content to simply kill each other instead. It wouldn't matter, really, who would claim it. It was a poisoned chalice, pretty to look at and would feel wonderful to drink from, but was ultimately poison in the long term. Claiming it would be a nice prize at first, but would result in committing oneself to an inevitable defeat, a war of attrition one simply could not win. I was not keen on reenacting Germania's lost war with these mages, so that option was out.

The second option would be a smash and grab. I could go down to the ley lines underneath the temple, figure out what I could do with it, and blow up the temple before anyone else could do the same. It would suit my own purposes, abandon the idea of planting my flag on a doomed position as well as robbing my opposition of available resources. In fact, that would be the primary reason for doing this. Whatever benefits I could gather would be the cherry on top, with the main prize being my denying the opposition use of such a valuable resource…

But that would make my presence known, wouldn't it? As it was now, I was but a nameless and faceless Servant among seven. If I went down there and destroyed the ley lines, or at least access to it, I had to be meticulous. If I blew up a tunnel, only for there to turn out to be multiple underground access points, then I'd completely wasted my time. I needed to be thorough, and if I was going to be thorough, odds were the leyline's balance would shift catastrophically. I wouldn't be destroying the temple so much as I would be blowing up half the mountain. That would put my presence right on the map, and I was fairly certain there were rules somewhere about unnecessary collateral damage….

"Excuse me?"

My head jerked up at the question, a masculine voice, before turning around. A man, no, a boy stood in front of me. A studious looking kid with glasses, he was wearing the robes of one of the monks of the temple. I cleared my voice, opting for a neutral tone. I'd decide what to do with him once I figured out what he wanted.

"Yes?" It had been a long time since I've spoken in Japanese, or rather, Akinese. Despite that, I was at the very least confident in my vocabulary, that ol' crystallization of modern information trick was insanely useful.

The boy seemed unperturbed at my tone, soldiering on like any diligent student would. Internally, I labeled him as Glasses. "Excuse me ma'am. But unfortunately, it seems as though you've wandered away from the public areas."

I blinked, looking around and proving the kid right. My thoughts had wandered and so did I, finding myself closer to the cavernous tunnels that would eventually lead to the underground ley lines, and very much far away from the publicly accessible areas most of the other visitors would have been allowed through.

Internally, I was embarrassed. Outwardly, I allowed none of that to show in my features as I gave Glasses a good long look, before nodding.

"So it seems. I'm very sorry, I'll be making my way out of here then."

Quick and terse. My physical body looked suitably foreign, and if Akitsushima was anything as I remembered it, the suitable response to a rude outsider would be to smile as non-threateningly as possible before allowing the nuisance to walk away. I proceeded to do so, my dress fluttering lightly with the movement.

"That's alright miss, have a good day." he says, though out the corner of my eye he seemed to pause for a bit. I paid it no mind, I had better things to do than worry about his opinion of me after all.

"I have to say though, love the look. It's very well made, I don't usually see something that good but you pull it off."

I stopped in my tracks, frowning at his words. What did he say? Odds were he was just a creep hitting on me, worth none of my time or attention. Despite that, something in his tone compelled me to turn around and face him. The boy had a curious expression on his face, something almost akin to panic, but I didn't let his discomfort dissuade me.

"What did you just say?"

He chuckled nervously. "It's cosplay right? Of the Silver Princess? You're dressed exactly like her, when she was young I mean, it's really quite good and-"

I ignored the fool's ramblings, walking straight towards him and placing a finger directly beneath his chin. Glasses panicked considerably, which was good. My appearing as a foreigner should sufficiently cause him to wave off any social niceties I was foregoing. I needed it if I was to stay in this country for the entirety of the war, I didn't need people underestimating me because of my body.

"Explain yourself." I asked, as patiently as possible, though my words seemed to make him flinch. No doubt he thought I was being rude. I suppressed a sigh, the damned Akinese and their politeness.

"Please." I reiterated, trying to be nicer, my eyes trained onto his. "Help me understand."

He stammered for a bit, his need to pick out his words very carefully, undoubtedly clashing with his discomfort of a foreigner's straightforwardness. "N-no, I mean-. What I was trying to say was your cosplay's good, very good! The best I've ever seen! Usually the girls that try to dress as the Kaiserina do it badly. They oversexualize her or just do it because it's eye-catching, but your outfit is really-"

"Shut up." I sighed, and the boy naturally quieted down as well. "Start again, from the beginning. Why are people cosplaying as- as the head of a foreign nation? Do kids these days really have nothing better to do?"

The look he gave me was a bit incredulous now, which I thought was rather unfair. It was certainly shocking to me, consider it from my perspective after all. Not too long ago I was but a retired old woman with osteoarthritis and whose overriding concern was figuring out what how much of my personal assets was appropriate to leave to Visha. Now, I've been told that people were cosplaying as me? Was this guy just a history nerd and this was his pathetic means of hitting on me?

"It's….it's Tanya." he shrugged helplessly, as though that was sufficient to answer all of my questions. "Everyone in Akitsushima, no- everyone in the world knows about her. I'm not a girl, I can't judge, but after overhearing my classmates talk? For every girl that dyes their hair, maybe a third of them do it because of her. If you talk to someone older, they'd always tell stories about how their grandparents wept after that first care package from Germania, the one before the war?"

As he spoke, my mind wandered, thinking back to the crowds I'd mindlessly walked through earlier. His words were shocking to me obviously, and my first instinct was to consider him a creep, but I couldn't deny some truth in his words. When I'd been exploring the skyscraper, I did see a fairly large number of blondes, at least compared to the memories of my first life. I'd thought it odd at first, speaking as an HR Manager, such indiscretions would be frowned upon in Japan. I simply dismissed it as some modern thing I just didn't pay much attention to at the time. However, if Glasses was telling the truth, then….

Apparently, my silence had prompted the fool to continue talking, though I admittedly hadn't been listening to a lot of it. "Even my grandfather, he-he- benefited from that care package. He was so grateful, he told me that if the Chancellor hadn't done that we might have lost the Templ-"

"Stop." I huffed, irritated. This was going nowhere. "It's fine, thank you for explaining yourself. You can go."

He took no time at all to flee from me, retreating with all due haste to the inner confines of the temple, where I saw some other monks whisper to each other at our display, doubtlessly wondering what idiocy infected the minds of the young to be talking like that in public. At the corner of my eye, one even patted the boy's back in a commiserating fashion, a look of what looked to be sympathy on his face. I turned around and began walking back to the public areas.

Now that I was paying attention to the people around me, I could see what the boy was talking about. In Japan, beyond the silly indiscretions of the young with dyeing their hair a ridiculous shade, generally people kept to their natural black hair color. In Akitsushima on the other hand, it was closer to twenty percent or so of the people I was walking through being blonde, the vast majority of which were female. It defied expectations in age demographic too, bizarrely enough, and it was equally likely to see some teenage punk dressed as me as it was to some old grandma with brilliantly blonde hair walking with her grandchildren.

This….this was bad. It seemed that in the typical, ridiculous, cult followings that the Japanese had held for idols and such had dutifully carried on in this reality. The optimal strategy for this war meant that I needed to ensure my identity was kept secret at all costs, the less opportunities for the opposition to take advantage of some weakness of mine. Maintaining that secret would be a problem though, especially now that I knew perhaps twenty percent of the population were keen to cosplay as me.

I sighed. Deciding to just table it for future consideration. There was nothing I could do about it for now and brooding about it accomplishes nothing. I could allow myself to think about it once I was done with my work. I turned my sighs back to the leyline below.

If I were still in the military, I'd have already be underground by now, setting demolition charges and traps and a dozen other less than pleasant surprises. Nothing immediate, but I would have surveillance all around the temple as appropriate, with all entrance into the tunnels below mined and trapped. If there was a way to poison the leylines beneath it, I would have done so too, though that was obviously a much more difficult and destructive task. Denial of military assets would have been the primary goal, and the temple was essentially the military equivalent of a giant fully stocked fortress with its doors open and its halls completely empty of defenders.

Despite that, I suspected that the best thing to do would be to leave the place alone. It was a delightful honey trap, but it was still a trap. War and politics were much the same, and as with Germania way back at the beginning, moving too aggressively, too quickly, would merely invite the wrath of anyone else active in the war. I could, theoretically, mine this entire place to hell and back such that taking a step into the temple would be like trying to take a step into the Rhine itself. However, to do that would be to expose some of my capabilities. Worse yet, it would reveal that someone had been one step ahead, and would scare the hotheaded idiot that tried to claim the temple into going underground. Better to just leave it be, have it serve as a means to trap a more impulsive opponent, and watch as the rest of the War's participants tag-team and beat them to death.

Still, that didn't mean I had to be passive here.

Drawing a knife would be a bit too noticeable in this place, but that would be unnecessary. The symbolism of the knife drawing blood was necessary for the formation of my territory, or so my own instincts told me, but I wouldn't have to do it with something as simple as this. My thumb graced my index finger, the nail slicing cleanly into my skin and drawing forth rich, crimson, blood.

I wasn't entirely sure why a good portion of my more esoteric abilities, or rather the powers I possess now that I never did in life, demanded blood as a cost, either mine or others. Part of it, I'm sure, was the troublesome system of magic these hidden mages had; it had less to do with beautiful concepts like mathematical principles and algorithms and everything to do with symbolism and arcane claptrap. An aggravating contrast, and the more I thought about it, the more I was content that I never had to utilize them in my wars. I could already imagine Lergen's frustration if our vaunted mages required rubies, sapphires and animal sacrifices to do their job.

On the other hand, it could also just be the nature of my legend. One does not earn the title of the Devil of the Rhine without blood.

I pulled out a plain white handkerchief from my jacket, making sure no one was watching, and wiped my blood on its surface. The exact design was not particularly important, so I drew a smiling face upon its surface, a pair of cute horns at the top of her head before empowering it and throwing it into the air. The handkerchief flew as though carried by a great wind, disappearing into the trees around the temple to observe it as I willed. The wound on my thumb disappeared, healing more or less instantly.

Nodding to myself, satisfied, I moved on.

* * *

**I**

* * *

Reconnaissance of the battlefield was a necessity in any war, and while satellite mapping over the city made plotting out its territory much easier than it had been in the 30's, it didn't give me the full details. Too often on the battlefield I would see soldiers relying on maps and not so much on common sense and basic reconnaissance; I might have been out of practice in the years since I've been an active combatant, but that was no reason to be sloppy.

My Master had, when we'd first spoken, gone on and on about the other families in the city. Specifically the three major families that had designed this blasted ritual. He seemed somewhat self absorbed, focused as he was with his intent and reasoning for the war, which I simply dismissed as unnecessary information. The purpose of my contract here was to win it, and the considerations of my Master going only so far as to assist in the completion of that objective.

Nonetheless, his mention of the other three families was useful. In all likelihood, they'd be involved in the coming battle, which meant that they'd have had plenty of time since the end of the previous war to prepare. Not an ideal situation, but perhaps the rivalry between the three would be so great that they'd focus on each other rather than any outsiders that had invited themselves to their war. Observation on their bases would be ideal, but that involved its own problems as well. What territories were known and were on record would likely be enchanted and armed to the teeth, assuming they were even real and not just prearranged traps for anyone foolish enough to hunt them down that way. The little familiar trick I'd pulled at the temple would be insufficient to pierce through any defenses they might have, though a part of me couldn't help but gripe about how many times such an ability would have been useful in the war. On top of that, this is the fifth war of its kind. If each family didn't have a backup base or three in case they'd lose their's in an alpha strike they wouldn't have lasted this long in the first place.

Theoretically, I could have visited the Church. It was neutral ground, I doubted that anyone would pick a fight with me right in front of the moderator's face. At the same time, it would compromise my current goal of secrecy and operating in the shadows. The moderator would probably know I was active already, but I was pretty certain that the other families would likely have eyes on such an important place. The moment I'd step foot on those grounds I'd be seen, and since I didn't have anything to talk about with the priest that essentially ran the show, I decided not to go anywhere near it instead.

The majority of the other Servants hadn't been summoned yet, which gave me some degree of flexibility on how to proceed. Of all the classes, mine was the most ill suited for combat, at least on paper, and as such I had to take the opportunity to set the board while I still had time. However, I had no intention of courting the ire of any of the players before we'd even started by knocking on their front doors and snooping around in their garbage. Eventually I'd have to, of course, but I'd prefer to do some from as absolute an advantage as I possibly could.

I decided not to sweat the hundreds of wanna-be-mes that wandered around the city. In fact, after some thought, I decided to consider it a boon. It allowed me to explore the city more easily than one would expect, as well as blend in with the crowd in a way I wouldn't have been able to otherwise. Of course, I didn't spend the entire day in my physical form, when traversing through more hard to reach areas I simply turned into my spirit form. Not quite the same as flying with my trusty Type 124-T, but it was better than nothing.

There were four leylines in Fuyuki City, which from my understanding was rather impressive. The biggest was the one at the temple, but that left three more whose status was unaccounted for. Intelligence on their locations on the other hand had been a bit iffy, supposedly the other families kept any information about Fuyuki City under wraps from outsiders. Admirable, if not for the fact that they didn't seem to understand that the internet existed. As such, a lot of the information my Master possessed was guesswork based on Giggle Maps, not exactly Elya, but better than nothing.

I hadn't initially wanted to seek them out. From my understanding, the Temple was the largest and most useful, with the rest being of variable quality. It wasn't until I'd sought out the church, and noticed that it too was set above a leyline, that I considered another possibility. If the other families had been here for a significant period of time, the odds were good that they may have built something of value atop the leylines themselves. At the very least the church had decided to do so, why not hunt down the other two leylines in case they led to something worthwhile? After all, intelligence was always something to strive towards, and now that I was at least somewhat familiar with the phenomenon, I imagined it would be easier to seek out the other two leylines.

In a way, I was right. The location of the third leyline was easy in that it seemed to have been the sight of some disastrous battle in the previous war. Significant reconstruction attempts had taken place in the area, such that whatever may have originally been here was crushed to ashes. Nothing special, though it seemed that the leyline here was weakest of the four, perhaps the result of being drained in the last war? The details weren't clear, and I could always ask my Master about the specifics later, and so I moved on.

The fourth leyline, on the other hand, was significantly more difficult to deal with. Something, or someone, was obscuring the leyline from my sight thus making the search significantly more difficult than it had to be. This was actually a good thing, as far as I was concerned. Hiding a leyline isn't like draping a blanket over a car, it was a huge manifestation of magical energy, if one had taken the trouble of obscuring that from sight then it had to be important somehow. You couldn't just do that at the drop of a hat, there had to be established, entrenched magework at play to even obscure it to this level. Now to be fair, it wasn't like the entire thing somehow magically disappeared. It was still here somewhere, but it was like looking at a picture with the wrong pair of glasses. The details were foggy, the specifics smeared across a quarter of the city such that I'd have had better luck just wandering around and hoping I get a hit.

I searched for hours, burning daylight as I looked for that last leyline. As a Heroic Spirit, I benefited from the fact that physical exhaustion was merely a joke to me. I didn't run on water and carbohydrates but from mana, with any level of strain I might occur stemming from a lack of it. Despite that, by the time I saw the sunset over the horizon I felt….depleted somehow. Drained.

I looked around me. First at the strange yet familiar residences nearby, then to the shape of the distant skyscrapers further beyond that, deep into the heart of the city. Turning around, I watched as streams of students walked down lively streets, the end of the day heralding their own return to their homes. It was just so….nostalgic. I found myself leaning on a nearby wall, taking it all in as people passed by me, murmuring the details of their lives as I closed my eyes and let it wash over me.

Everything about my return to life, to coming here, has been like that. A reminder of the life that I had, of the life that I lost. Not that my second life was so terrible of course, though I suppose I could only say that in hindsight. I'm sure if someone had asked me my opinion while I wasted away in the trenches, or when engaged in hand to hand combat against Mary, my opinion would be very different. Through it all though, it had its charms. Despite myself, I had forged companions and friendships from the war. I had carved out a place for myself, though it hadn't been the place I'd aimed for at the beginning. I think, on balance, I had a happy life.

But that life was so far removed from the one I'd been forced to leave behind that at times I might have even believed it to be a far distant dream. When was the last time I thought about the people I knew in the first world? What of the….not friends, but acquaintances I'd made in that life? Did I still remember the names of my parents? What about their faces?

That I was here, in a place so close to home but not really, it made my heart ache. I grit my teeth, determined not to allow the slightest moisture escape my eyes.

I didn't care how long it would take, I'd see Being X dead one day no matter what it took. His blood would be on my hands.

"I'd hate to disturb whatever it is you're occupied with, but it seems to me that you're in my way."

I blinked at that, retreating from my thoughts as I turned around to see who'd talked to me. To my side was a dark haired girl with ribbons in her hair and a red coat over what looked to be a student's uniform. Despite her somewhat harsh words she was looking at me curiously, her gaze scanning me back and forth as she studied me.

"Oh wow, that's pretty good." she murmured, an inquisitive eye appraising me like so much meat. I recoiled, taking a step back in an effort to gain some room, only for her to take a step forward to maintain that distance, leaning in closer. I felt my back hit the wall and suppressed the animal instinct to push the girl away, deciding to stand my ground. I somehow felt like I was under a microscope, my body exposed to the girl's unyielding sight as she studied me like some prized speciment.

"That's really good." she added again, wonder in her tone. "It's almost a shame, if you were smaller you could totally pull her off. Not that you don't already, but I mean like….if you were standing right next to her, you could pass as her relative. It's insane really, like you're actually related to the Argent."

I could feel a nerve twitch at this woman's gall, an irritation that was tinged with embarrassment at the fact that I'd been taken off balance by this woman's maneuvers. "Excuse me, that's rather rude you know. Do you always go up to people and measure their bodies with your eye? You're lucky you were born a woman, or you'd be a walking sexual harassment case."

The girl seemed to blink at that, straightening up and backing away with a hint of what might have been contrition in her stance. "Well I'm sorry. It's just rather remarkable you know! Tanya impersonators are a dime a dozen, but the really excellent ones could make a killing on tv. You should think about it you know, any studio in Akitsushima would shell out the good stuff to get you on their programs."

For a moment I just stared at her. I suppressed a sigh, bowing my head down and placing my fingers to my temple in an effort to stave off an incoming headache. Was I really this popular? Was this gonna be a common thing, where everyone I met would comment on it? What would it mean for when combat actually started? Should I just use up everything I have in an alpha strike to ensure they couldn't have a chance to see my face? Even if the Servants wouldn't recognize me at first, at the rate this is going possibly every single Master in this era certainly would.

"I appreciate your advice." I said through gritted teeth, raising my head to look at the girl. "But I was just about to leave. Thank you anyway."

She seemed to consider that for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought as she placed her hands to her hips. In the end, she sighed too.

"Okay that's fair." the girl nodded, looking towards something behind me. "But you're in my way, so…."

I blinked at that, turning around, only to see a rather fancy looking house. More specifically, it seemed as though I was blocking the entrance way without really noticing it. I quickly stepped aside, keeping my face blank even as I fought to suppress my embarrassment showing on my cheeks. "Right. Well, sorry about that."

The awkwardness hanged in the air for a moment, before she gave me a smile. "Don't worry about it, Tanya-chan. We all have bad days."

My eye twitched at the barb, but before I could say anything else, the girl had disappeared into her mansion. No, that wasn't quite right, it was more accurate to call it her fortress. I'd seen enough rich girls and pretend rich girls in both my lifetimes to determine who was what, and I knew for a fact that she was the real deal.

I scoffed, shaking my head as I turned away from the house. If even some random schoolgirl could cross my path and determine that I was a pathetic, self-pitying, mess then I was surely even more unbalanced than I thought I was. I wasn't on some vacation, I didn't have the luxury on reflection and on consideration of the hell that my life has been ever since I first crossed paths with Being X. That was a problem with my second life too, that there were enough moments of calm, that there had been moments in that life where I'd been happy, that I'd deliriously fooled myself into thinking the danger had passed. What an idiot I was, to think that the wars and people I'd fought were the trap Being X had set for me, when in reality the entire life I'd lived had been the trap.

An elegant scheme, even I had to give my Opponent that much respect. He'd got one over on me, I could see that clearly enough. I'd make sure I would never be made a fool of ever again.

With one last glance at that house, and a final contemptuous chide to myself for wasting time in this obviously unremarkable place, I returned home.


	4. 1.3

**1.3**

Despite myself, I was feeling pretty good about things by the time I returned to base. Yes, I'd never actually managed to find the location of that last leyline, but all things considered that wasn't as significant an issue as I initially thought. I knew it was important now, since it was hidden, which meant that I could return at my leisure whenever I wanted to crack open that mystery. Secrecy was a shield useful only once, then quickly discarded. Whoever had hidden that last leyline had done so for a reason, and considering all three major mage families that could have done so within the city were de facto hostile, that was good enough for me.

On top of that, I'd determined to my satisfaction the overall strategic picture that the city presented. I had a passable enough memory, and at the very least, I wouldn't be running around blind when hostilities inevitably commence, though it would take a few more days for me to be comfortable with the coming battleground. Activity was good, it was productive, and in a situation like the one I'd found myself in productivity was something I desperately needed. I didn't need any more useless navel gazing after all.

When I'd arrived at the skyscraper, one of my Master's playthings was there to meet me on the ground floor. She was pale and blonde, taller and older than me by a few years, at least from a glance, and was more western supermodel than middle eastern paramour. Contrasting the typical skimpy attire that she and her fellows wore in his penthouse, she was dressed rather more conservatively, though to be fair a wet towel would be more conservative than their usual. She was wearing some fashionable thing with heels that emphasized her height and a thicker jacket to ward off the cold, looking for all the world like some incognito actress. It was certainly eye catching, and she watched me coolly as I approached, inclining her head towards me once I'd closed the distance.

"Good evening, Kaiserin. Was your reconnaissance fruitful?"

I flinched at the embarrassing title, closing my eyes for a moment and sighing. Of all the titles that I'd been given, 'Kaiserin' was the most...well, I'd never sought it out in the first place. It was mostly idiotic imperial revanchists that called me that, largely in an attempt to relive the majesty of the Empire. Then again, perhaps she'd been instructed by Adam-something to give me a certain degree of respect, and a casual view of all my 'official' titles would have had that be the most impressive.

A moment later, as I digested all of that, I realized that the woman hadn't spoken Akinese and gaped at her. "Ah, you know Germanian?"

She smiled at that and nodded. Her voice held only the faintest trace of an Albionese accent, but beyond that her diction was perfect. "Indeed, Kaiserin. I'd been educated by Master Galliasta in the language prior to your summoning specifically to ensure you'd be more comfortable."

I nearly flinched at the title, before waving her off. "Please, no need for that. Kaiserin is too formal and too embarrassing, Tanya is fine."

"As you will, Princess."

Another flinch, this time beyond my ability to suppress, and I gave her a look, which didn't seem to faze her much at all. "What's your name, girl?"

"Lilian, ma'am."

Oh wonderful, at least this one's name was something normal. "Well. In that case, Lilian, I must insist you call me Tanya."

"Of course, Chancellor."

I gave an aggravated sigh. Whatever. Playing with his toys wasn't in my job description, and that was the least irritating of my titles. "Sure, fine. In any case, where is he? I believe there was something he wanted to discuss with me when I returned."

She inclined her head to my left, and as I turned to that direction I realized that there number of restaurants in that direction. Maybe half a dozen or so in my sight, with an admirable level of variety in the selection from both western and eastern cultures. Lilian turned to me. "The Master will be with you shortly, he's currently finishing up an experiment that's taken a bit longer than expected. He's asked that you choose where you'd like to eat. Thereafter, he would meet with you for dinner."

I quirked my eyebrow at that. "And is there a reason he asked you to tell me this, instead of communicating all this to me by himself?"

She responded with an irritatingly placid smile. "Unfortunately Chancellor, I am but a humble servant. All I am aware of is that the experiment requires Master Galliasta's full attention, and for me to deliver his message to you."

"...He is aware, of course, that Servants don't need to eat?"

"I presume so, Chancellor. However, as Master Galliasta has not yet eaten dinner, he believed that this would be the most efficient course of action. I am under the impression that Servants may eat if they wish, though if you would rather not eat anything at all, you may wait for him at his leisure."

I sighed. This was hardly the most efficient use of my time, but I was under contract after all. This Galileo fellow was essentially my employer, and I was still familiar enough with that kind of relationship that one's employer may, without warning, spring something out of the blue on you. "Fine. Tell him that I'll be taking the Ildoan place."

The girl's bow was barely acknowledged as I moved towards the homely looking shop at the corner. My Master seemed to prefer the finer things in life, generally speaking Ildoan food would fulfill that category. Despite the country's idiotic stumble into the second world war, not even Muzzioli's best efforts could cripple the cultural strength of its native dish. At the very least, if even Mussolini couldn't do it, what more his incompetent clone? Beyond that however, I did vaguely remember enjoying a place like this in my first life, which was added incentive to choose it, and so I made a bee line towards the restaurant as I gave my current predicament some thought.

I didn't quite have a grasp on my Master's personality yet. He was essentially my battery, the source of my power as well as the comparative weak point to my own existence. Any and all strategic considerations would, of course, dictate that I drag him to a bunker, seal it shut, and ensure anything that approaches him within a fifteen kilometer radius be reduced to ash. However, at the same time that he was my battery, he was also essentially my boss. Anyone idiotic enough to volunteer themselves for this war would likely be some foolhardy or bloodthirsty idiot willing to risk life and limb unnecessarily. Theoretically speaking, I suppose I could try to convince him of the rationality of a more measured approach, but considering the livelihood he seemed to enjoy, attempting to change his mind on things he'd decided may be more trouble than it was worth.

Still, it was an irritating experience. Even in the danger of the War, the very minimum requirements to ensure my own safety was, simply put, was to ensure my own safety. Rather, all I had to worry about was myself. Yes, I had my men, and I had my own forces, but while I had responsibility for their lives, they too had responsibility over their own. The same applied to me, if I was to be shot in the head by a Francois bullet then I had no one to blame but myself. On the other hand, if a stray bullet found its way into my Master's skull it would end me nearly as well as it would him, give or take a few hours until I wasted away. His safety, thus, was a primary concern to me.

I dropped myself onto a nearby seat, quickly giving out my order for some pasta which my waiter dutifully copied down in his little notebook. He didn't seem surprised at my looks, which made sense I suppose. It was a foreign restaurant, and thus the odds were foreigners would typically eat at this place. Still, it irritated me that my visage was so common to the general public. Yes, I could take advantage of it and hide among my doppelgangers, but it wouldn't change the fact that if I wanted to do something subtly, there would still be reports of a Tanya lookalike. I could potentially use contacts and possibly dye my hair, though considering the effort involved I wasn't going to waste all of that into blending into an Ildoan restaurant.

The waiter leaned forward, giving me a glass of water, as I thanked him absentmindedly. My eyes were drawn towards the glass, as I settled my mind towards the problem.

First and foremost, I needed to give my Master a rational strategy from which we could win the war. I was not unaware that though we were, essentially, bound by the hip for now, that such a situation might not necessarily last forever. Should a Master ever be eliminated, their orphaned Servant may seek an alliance with any other surviving Master. Now, I had no intention of dying of course, but there would be good chances that should a Servant be orphaned from their Master, that they would offer themselves to anyone that would take them. Considering the state of the competition, the odds of them being more useful or more powerful than me were high. As such, I had to prove my worth. More than that however, I had to prove my worth in a way that was both indispensable and integral to the overall strategy to win the war.

Easier said than done, perhaps, but not impossible. I may have spent decades as Germania's leader, but that didn't mean I forgot how it was like being the grunt. My memories of obstructionist commanders in the military and self absorbed twats in my former company was ample enough experience to deal with troublesome superiors. I was fairly confident in my ability to handle him.

My gaze wandered around the restaurant. I was familiar with stories of parallel universes of course, there'd been enough manga and anime on the topic that I'd consumed in my first life that I was at least reasonably certain of the premise. After everything that had happened over the decades, I was expecting some degree of cultural divergence. Perhaps a change in decor, or some preference for silly fashion that had gone out of style decades ago. Despite my expectations, I was left thoroughly disappointed. Perhaps it was that both Ildoa and Italy had too many common foundations for any sort of cultural divergence to occur, but sitting in an Italian restaurant was essentially the same as sitting in an Ildoan one. How disappointing.

Still, perhaps that meant that I'd succeeded. I didn't want to shatter Ildoa into a million bloody pieces, though I think if we'd have worked at it a little we could have. It wasn't their fault that their leader was a warmongering idiot puppet for the Francois, I certainly did my level best to prune him away before he could infect the rest of the country with his idiocy before the Francois intervened. I had made it clear that I wanted Ildoa whole and productive for the future, fostering resentment into the population was the perfect recipe for doing this all over again in another decade or so. Better to turn them towards our side than that of our opposition after all.

Yes one could consider that mindset to be somewhat odd and I would completely agree. After all, I imagine that most leaders would push to ensure the opposition would never again be a threat, devastation of their industry, elimination of their ability to maintain independence and a variety of other moves moving forward towards annexation of the more valuable territory. Certainly, people expected it, that was just how things were done. Unfortunately that was a mode of thinking a century behind from the current paradigm, It simply hadn't occurred to them that in moving to attain these short-term gains, they would be sacrificing long term opportunities. In the end Ildoa turned out fine, more closely aligned to us after a decade or two, which was exactly what I'd wanted.

I spent more time ruminating on that, the consequences of my reign and what I'd impacted. Surely whatever I'd done hadn't changed the world too much, or at the very least whatever changes had occurred wouldn't be too extensive. It would have been better if I'd known about this so called magus society while I'd still been alive, perhaps I'd have been able to exert some influence into their actions. I knew, more than most, how absolutely idiotic and shortsighted people could be, and the inclusion of magic did nothing for one's sense of humility or sense of priorities. I'd had plenty of experience with mages with more power than sense, and I had no illusions of the likelihood of these hidden magi being the same.

Unbidden, the memory of a blood crazed, vengeful, Legadonian girl invaded my mind. I scoffed, and took a big gulp from the ice cold water the waiter had left me. For a moment, I'd wished I was drinking something stronger than plain water, before shaking my head at the thought. I wasn't even sure I could get drunk in this body, though any form of resistance would already be better than what I'd had alive. The Dead should stay dead and plague the living no more.

The soft ting of the doorbell ringing, and the respectful greeting of the restaurant's staff, alerted me to his arrival. My Master was alone, absent his paramours and playthings, yet he seemed confident and sure as gazed around the restaurant before setting his eyes on me. Despite that, he seemed more muted now, less excitable from our first conversation, and I internally debated whether to stand in greeting or not. I noted his appraising look, his glancing over my body, and I decided to simply nod at him instead.

"Master." I said, as he sat down in front of me. He had a curious look on his face, and I mentally cataloged all the things we were likely to talk about first. We would be comrades in the war to come after all, there were so many things we would have to talk about.

"Did you like the dress?"

I blinked at that. What a strange thing to say. I'd expected a status report, or perhaps some castigation for not being properly deferential earlier. "I suppose so. The excursion went well, all things considered. I'm more familiar with the city as a whole, and have figured out some preliminary plans for how best to capitalize on our position. The decision to give me something so similar to my old dress was well thought out, considering all the Tanya lookalikes I blended into the crowd rather well. I doubt anyone noticed, it was a good idea."

In all honesty, it was a good idea. Hiding in plain sight was a temporary advantage while open hostilities had yet to ramp up. It would be an advantage we'd lose the moment we showed ourselves, so we might as well get our money's worth out of it while we still could. He seemed to agree as well, an amused grin forming on his face at my statement.

"Good, I'm glad." he nodded, leaning at the back of his chair as he seemed to make himself comfortable. The red headed waiter moved up close to our table, brought me my pasta. It looked heavenly, and the smell of it was enough to cause my stomach to rumble. I gave him my thanks, as he went to take Galliasta's order. I barely paid attention as he ordered something called orecchietta with white wine. I made a mental note to look it up later, in case it was his favorite dish or something.

Once he'd gone, my Master turned his attention to me. "I'm curious. Considering that you'd waged war against the Ildoans, why choose to eat at one of their restaurants?"

I quirked my eyebrow at that. "My enemy was the Ildoan government and Muzzioli. I had no ill will towards the country or the people or the culture itself. The objective was always to neutralize their ability to fight with minimum casualties. Besides, a world without Ildoan cuisine is one too bleak for even my tastes."

Galliasta chuckled. "Fair enough. Still, they killed your people. I imagined you'd have some degree of hatred towards them. Then again, perhaps that was more reserved for the Francois? Any irritation one would have for the Ildoans would be nothing compared to them."

I snorted at that. "Anyone that places their own emotional considerations over long term strategy is a fool, doubly so if that strategy was on an international scale. One must commit to rational, considerate, use of their resources and expertise in one's strategy, not irrational impulses like hate or fear."

He seemed to consider that for a moment, and I took advantage of the lull in the conversation to ask my next question. "I'm sorry, Master, but why exactly the curiosity?"

To be fair, I had no real aversion to discussing the point by point of my old wars. In fact, I might have enjoyed it. Hearing the perspective of a modern-day individual at the aftermath of my actions would have been an interesting exercise. There'd been half a dozen issues that had plagued my thoughts as not being suitably settled to my satisfaction by the time the I'd expired. It would have been enlightening to hear what, exactly, had happened then.

How long had it been since I died, exactly? It had been a bit blurry there, near the end. Surely it couldn't have been that long ago? I resolved to check the details later.

He waved my question off, though he seemed to have decided to be intrigued at my answer. "My apologies. You see, you'd always been a curious public figure. Countless discussions and books had been written about you, you see. The Kaiserin of Germania, the Argent Princess-"

I flinched and shook my head. "Please. We're both aware of all the titles, if you were to torture me with it, I'd ask that you let me finish dinner first."

That seemed to amuse him greatly, which I counted as a point in my favor. "Very well. The point being, that you were known to so many people, as so many things. For most of your kind, you Heroic Spirits, eventually one's legend crystallizes as something….consistent, I suppose. Iskander, Arthur, Bluebeard, most would have a vague idea of what one would get when summoning any of them. However, I wasn't entirely sure what I'd get when I'd summoned you. You'd been cast as both a bloodthirsty lunatic and a cold, calculating, manipulator in equal measure. You came from nothing, carving out a niche and a name and a legend for yourself when most would be like stumbling children learning to read."

For a moment, I wondered whether the comparison to Iskander, Arthur or Bluebeard was meant to appease or flatter me. Heroes of old, whose legends echoed from the past, surpassing the test of time. I wouldn't be so easily charmed if that was his game; I may be a Servant, but I wasn't one of his playthings. Nonetheless, something about his speech had caught my attention.

"You meant to summon me?" I asked, somewhat bewildered. "Considering the names and legends of those other Heroes, I'd imagine they would have been more interesting as far as a potential Servant could go. More powerful certainly"

Bizarrely, he shook his head. "No. They may be powerful yes, but they're defined by the eras and cultures of their time. I'd done my research you see, seen as much of the Fourth War despite Animusphere's efforts to keep the war under wraps. The more ancient Servants in that war had strange, insane, ideas about the world and their place in it. They would have been awkward to partner with, potentially problematic to deal with. What use is there in summoning some centuries long dead ghost if they still had foolish ideas like honor and pride that neuter their abilities? I much prefer to have an understandable, rational, partner with which to fight in this war. You were a top contender."

I couldn't help but snort at that. "Surely there were others. What's more, you said it yourself. The stories about me were wild and incoherent, for all you know I could have been a mass murdering psychopath that wouldn't listen to reason."

He shrugged. "Perhaps, but that was why I summoned you as a Caster. Strictly speaking, if you were going to be a threat too bloodthirsty to control, it would be easier for me to eliminate you as you are instead of as an Archer or Rider. Not easy, mind you, but easier."

That…..made a certain amount of sense, I had to grudgingly admit. The waiter arrived with Galliasta's order, and I waited for him to leave before I continued. "I'm surprised you'd admit that so boldly. Also, I've been thinking about it for a while now, but aren't you worried about speaking all of this mage business out in the open?"

He dug into his meal, which I took as permission to take a stab at my own pasta. It was only slightly warm now, but that was fine. I'd had to make do with worse in the past, and slightly warm Ildoan pasta was nothing to the rations at the front line. Galliasta waved his fork about, swallowing whatever the hell he'd ordered.

"Maybe, but I own every restaurant here." he said, with a smug, self satisfied, grin. "The help's been taught to keep their eyes and ears on their own business, not the customers, and definitely not mine."

I paused at that, thinking back to the skyscraper, as well as the number of restaurants his plaything had directed me to. It seemed that my Master had something of a tendency to show off. Not the most ideal thing, especially considering my belief in us keeping our heads down for the entirety of the war, but it had its uses I suppose.

"Right." I allowed, and if possible his smugness seemed to grow exponentially at my reaction. I could already tell this was going to be something of an exercise in restraint. "Beyond all this Master…"

He looked up from the wine glass he'd been busy with, a curious expression on his face. I continued. "We'll need to talk about our strategy for the war. I understand the importance of the Tohsakas, Matou and Einzbern, but we'll need to figure out how exactly we should move once the war properly starts."

The curious expression turned to one of smug amusement, and he took a sip from his glass. He smacked his lips obnoxiously afterwards, an amused grin on his lips.

"On that front, Caster? I'm very much ahead of you."

* * *

**I**

* * *

The rest of the dinner had passed relatively quickly, as Galliasta had insisted on reserving any further discussion until he'd shown me his workshop at the Tower, the name he insisted on calling the skyscraper his family owned. We left shortly afterwards without paying. Apparently, since Galliasta owned all these restaurants it was taken as a matter of fact that he ate there without reservation, considering the work and efforts of his employees to be a given. Speaking as a former HR Manager, that simply wasn't the case, and so I'd insisted on a proper reward for the waiter. Galliasta had merely shrugged and allowed it, withdrawing money from his wallet, which she'd given to the waiter, despite the boy's embarrassed misgivings about it. I merely waved it off, typical Akinese modesty about tips and gifts, he was now, technically speaking, my own employee now after all.

Still though, I wish I'd known that our orders were essentially on the house, I would have ordered more.

All these restaurants he owned, as well as the the fact that his family owned the Tower itself, had me wary though. I had briefly commented that if someone knew his identity, they'd be able to easily track down his holdings in the city, and thus figure out our headquarters. He'd insisted that ownership was funneled through several dummy corporations and identities, and that he doubted the technologically inept Three Families would be able to pierce through all the legalese. I had my own reservations about that, but decided to simply let it slide. It wasn't worth fighting about, and I suppose I had to trust him eventually.

Easier said than done really. After all those years bathed in war, I thought myself as being at least somewhat practiced in the field. It was rarely a wise thing to rely solely on the opposition's incompetence, one had to be prepared for all eventualities. Nonetheless, I could fill in the gaps to whatever weak points existed in his plans. That way, I could build confidence with him, and use his resources to enact better stratagems if necessary.

Fair's far though, if nothing else, his plans seemed solid enough.

"You know Lancer's Master?" I asked, my eyes widening. We had just entered the Tower, the guards and attendants within allowing us entrance with barely a glance to me and a respectful greeting to Galliasta himself. My gaze scanned over their gear and bearing, observing their critical eye and tactical position around the entrance and exits of the building. At the very least, it seemed that his men weren't the typical rent-a-cop crap other corporations sometimes relied on. At the very least, in house training. Maybe even mercenary, considering that Galliasta was prepared for a war. They knew their stuff, and judging from the discreet bulge in their clothing from some form of Kevlar, they were properly equipped as well.

Galliasta responded positively to my surprise. If nothing else, he enjoyed getting his ego stroked. "Her name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz. We were both sent to participate in the war via the Mages Association, so we're somewhat acquainted with each other. She tried to hide it, but I know that her intent would have been to summon Cu Chulainn. A good choice, strategically speaking, and she'd convince you that was the only reason she chose him. In truth, Bazett's has had a crush on that man's legend for years now, her choice would have been obvious if you knew anything about her. It's cute actually, with how much she likes him, the years melt off her face and it's like she's a schoolgirl again. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd have had him fuck her by now."

Galliasta laughed at that, while I merely stood by with a stoic expression on my face. He seemed to enjoy any reaction he could pull from me, so I sought to adjust that fact into my calculations. He was the sort of man, I figured, who would quickly grow tired of sycophantic fawning. I had to give him his 'wins' with some calculation that way, and perhaps by doing that I'd be able to guide the conversation to more constructive areas.

"Will she be a problem?" I asked, as we entered the elevator. "If you know her name and that of her Servant's, do you intend on eliminating her from the war early?"

His amusement seemed to spike at my question, and he shook his head at my question. "No. No, I don't think it's necessary. We have something of an agreement to coordinate with each other you see. I don't particularly care whichever one of us wins the war you see, as long as I get to survive triumphantly then I'd consider that a win. That in and of itself would be better than any of the other fools that tried to fight this war over the centuries. Our current strategy would involve her and Lancer serving as the more visible threat to the other five participants, while we support her with our own resources. We keep ourselves from the front lines as much as possible, operate safely and securely, and eliminate whatever threats they can't deal with. Then, once the majority of the other Masters and Servants had been eliminated, we move in force and mop up the remainder."

I paused at that, actually caught flatfooted. That was...actually a remarkably well thought out plan. From my experiences with the war, I was used to my superiors throwing me into more and more suicidal strategies in an effort to break the enemy with focused aggression. In comparison, this strategy was positively pacifistic, what with the minimization of risk for us and maximization the forces available to us. Not that I was complaining of course, and I'd still have to see what adjustments could be made as we applied the strategy.

Still, this was good, and it was only my own experience in both politics and war that caused me to stifle the ray of hope that shined forth from my heart. After all, far too often I've learnt that if something is just too good to be true then it often was.

"I see." I murmured aloud, thinking. Galliasta seemed concerned at that, and spoke quickly.

"Not that we're likely to spend the entirety of the war hiding in the shadows. Odds are someone would find us at some point, and we would have to defend the Tower. Plenty of….action, there." he smiled, a placating gesture likely to assuage his own pride. Then again, that was only to be expected. Anyone willing to throw themselves into this war had to have some degree of blood lust after all, and even if the strategy was sound, it had to rankle his pride at having to play at the sidelines because of my own class restrictions. I gave him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, Master. Despite the limitations of this form, I'm fairly certain that my talents will be more applicable on the battlefield. I won't slow you down."

The man's smile seemed to grow brittle at my words, and I figured now would be a good time to change the subject. Thankfully, I had a question of my own I'd been meaning to ask for a while now. "What information do we have on the other masters?"

Galliasta paused at that, folding his arms and raising his head up to the elevator's ceiling. His eyes were closed, as though deep in thought. "The Einzberns will send one of their homunculus, if their efforts from the last war was any indication. That family was less than pleased that their efforts from the last war had turned to nothing, so I'm expecting something spectacularly brutal from them this time. I'd consider her our primary target. The Tohsakas are largely diminished as a family, but despite that we shouldn't underestimate them. This is their territory, they know it better than us, and they almost won the last war. I have no idea if they still retain their catalyst, but if they do, then for all we know their young heiress is likely to summon it again. That would be tricky, their servant almost delivered the war to them ten years ago, and I have no interest seeing that bitch copy her father's work. I'd consider them our secondary target, but if they brought him back then I'd upgrade that to primary target."

I frowned at that, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Really? Was the Tohsaka Servant that powerful?"

He responded only with a nod, his eyes still closed and in thought, but said no more. Strange, but I decided to let the matter drop for now. "What about the third family? The Matous?"

The man scoffed at that, a contemptuous sound. "If the Tohsakas are diminished, the Matous are halfway into the grave. I don't think they even have anyone capable of waging the war this time and if they do, it shouldn't be a true significant threat."

I nodded at that. "So five known. Us, McRemitz, Einzbern, Tohsaka and possibly the Matous. Which leaves two or three wildcard pairs?"

The elevator rang as we reached the twenty third floor. As it opened, we were greeted by attendants in strange attire, bowing at us as we passed. "Roughly so, yes. I wouldn't worry about them too much. Bazett should be more than capable of handling any physical threats, while the both of us should be more than capable of handling anything else."

I wasn't entirely certain as to where this strange….confidence? Arrogance, was stemming from. Judging from the satisfaction on his lips however, and how he motioned for me to go through first, I suspected I'd learn from whence it came soon enough.

The lab I found myself in looked particularly high tech, to an extent more similar to some set up in a science fiction movie. The kind of film wherein some idiot scientist would break all manner of safety regulations, proclaiming some devout faith in a higher cause, before royally screwing something up and cracking a test tube filled with a glowing green liquid that would kill everyone inside and herald the coming apocalypse. Thoughts of Schugel filled my mind, that mad, idiotic, man, as I gazed around the lab. I suspected that he would have loved something like this, which didn't instill a significant amount of confidence in me towards my master.

The actual contents of the lab inspired less confidence.

Galliasta entered the lab, wandering about the machines, quoting prices on how much they cost, while I myself had my eyes focused on the children he'd installed into the glass containers. They were small, not more than eight years old, even accounting for malnutrition or a naturally small frame. The containers they were installed in was only slightly larger than they were, not so much from a concession to personal comfort, as to account for the children being of variable sizes. Turning around towards the wall, I saw even more of them hanging from some contraption like pigs in a slaughterhouse. They seemed sedated, same as the ones in the container, and while their head hanged down and shadowed their faces, I spotted empty eyes staring out into the abyss, completely bereft of awareness. I looked back to the ground, at the children laying in fetal position, dead to the world.

"The 'magic' currently known to the nations and people of humanity, and the magic of the deeper mysteries, are a world apart." Galliasta explained, his eyes on some nearby screen. "The differences between the two are vast. The computation spheres allow for the formation and funneling of one's mana into crude manifestations in the physical reality. It's what allowed flight, enhanced and enchanted weaponry, shielding and all the other tricks that the Magus Association scoffs at. To mankind's credit, advances in computation and science have allowed them to refine those processes beyond what one could reasonably expect. Still, it falls far, far, short of what we Magi strive for. To them, magic is a means to end. To us, it is both means and end."

The wiser thing would have been to keep quiet and allow him to just talk, but my own curiosity got the better of me. "The way you say 'magic' compared to your own abilities, would it be safe to say you're contemptuous of it?"

My tone was neutral and not at all threatening, but the words succeeded in drawing his attention away from the screen. He seemed almost apologetic for some reason. "Not at all. The Magus Association are largely dismissive of this new brand of magic, most would consider it merely some form of applied science, but I do not share such close-mindedness. It's a valid form of magecraft, in my opinion, but all traditions have their own limitations. The Magic of the Spheres are a club, a frightfully effective club for what it's meant to do, but a club nonetheless. It lacks…."

His hand waved over to the machinery, to the children in glass containers and cool, air conditioned, lab.

"...finesse." he finished, sighing the word out.

I waited for a moment, my eyes studying the workshop. Now that I knew what I was looking at, I could see that the entire room was enchanted. Again, the strange, alien, enchantment I'd noticed outside was present here. It was different though, where I'd vaguely been able to understand the mechanics of the magical protection placed upon the Tower, this was beyond even my experience. My vision expanded, studying the magical architecture of its design and finding myself...disturbed by the implications.

The design had very little in common with work on the computation spheres. The closest thing I could think of were certain pieces within my Type-95 and other subsequent computation spheres, components that allowed for the transmutation of one's internal mana supply. Not exactly the same, but similar, and which seemed to allow a level of transformation beyond even those devices. The transformation from one state of matter to another and that certainly didn't bode well for what was happening here.

"Finesse." I repeated, my gaze on Galliasta. "Would you please explain?"

He chuckled. "A Mage's efforts coalesce into the battlefield like that of a Valkyrie, burning brightly, a harbinger of war and flexible in all its aspects. A Magus's efforts are those of a scholar, the deeper mysteries allowing a greater degree of power denied to a Mage. My Family's magic focuses on the transmutation of matter, specifically the most ancient of its forms; less of a spell and more of a curse. I'd taken it upon myself to streamlining and modernizing the process. Here, let me show you."

Before I could say anything else, do anything else, he tapped out several commands on his keyboard before looking out into the glass containers, an excited look in his eyes. As they began to fill with water, he continued his explanation.

"The Magus Association are, for the most part, close-minded fools." he scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "They rely upon pedigree and age when merit and modernity are often the superior alternatives. Innovation like this would be frowned upon, they consider computation spheres as a trinket instead of realizing its potential. If they'd known what I've done here, a combination of modern technology and magical knowledge, the more conservative among them likely wouldn't even consider me a proper magus afterwards."

I sensed a spike of energy, and watched with a sort of morbid curiosity as their bodies liquefied; hair, flesh, meat and bone shredding themselves so finely it looked as though they'd been devastated at the molecular level. Whatever fluid had been pumped into the container had been turned to sludge as a result, a viscous goop that, mere seconds before, had once been a human being. Moments later, the goop began to drain from the containers, circulating into a central pillar that began to glow with magical energy. The air tasted like lightning.

"We've succeeded in streamlining the process of human to mana transfiguration." he says, his voice tinged with pride. "What once would have been accomplished in a month, we can do in seconds. In addition, this construct bypass the incantation aria entirely, thus bypassing the time constraints even further."

Lightning was made manifest in an instant, the charged particles in the air culminating unto the central pillar with a sharp crack that echoed throughout the chamber. When the process was complete, I saw a crystal of pure mana sitting atop the central pillar. Galliasta moved forward, grabbing the crystal, and depositing it in my hands.

I studied the crystal for a moment. It was, indeed, completely as Galliasta had described it to be. Pure mana, made manifest into a crystalline shape the shape and length of perhaps two of my fingers. It was interesting feeling it, if one were to ignore its rather grim beginnings, and I could imagine the crystal revitalizing an average mage's mana supply. Not a complete zero to one hundred re-invigoration certainly, but the amount here would certainly have tipped the balance of a mage's situation from 'dead' to 'fighting chance to kill one's opponent'.

Galliasta was looking at me. His visage was excited and curious, obviously waiting for my opinion as I took my time to study the crystal. Externally, I was stoic and cold. I was performing a variety of tests upon the crystal, visually confirming what I already knew as holographic panels the color of cyan formed in my view. He seemed suitably impressed by that, and the growing impatience was nipped in the bud as he saw his Servant so obviously taking his work seriously.

Internally though? Internally I was screaming.

Of course. Of fucking course. I'd seen this all before, castigation against those authorities too blind to see his genius, an appalling lack of consideration for the proper value of human resources, the arrogance to believe that if one would just listen to his mad schemes that they would all make sense in due time. Whether he spouted his madness upon an open airfield and claimed his inspiration from the divine, or spoken with a smug grin and aristocratic wealth, I could see through his mask now. I realized who I was talking to. I'd had the sheer misfortune to be summoned by this war's version of Schugel.

Oh yes he masked it well enough, with his harem of paramours and his wealth and apparently reasonable and sane war plans, but I knew better now. Years of being his guinea pig, decades of reigning in his mad schemes, it had prepared me extensively for dealing with mad, visionary, fools. For all I knew, this entire experiment of his was thoroughly outlawed by the laws of this Magus Association, I certainly couldn't imagine any organization willing to resort to human sacrifice for such a paltry return. The power radiating from the mana crystal was extensive certainly, but compared to the sheer productivity of six individuals over their entire lives? People were ultimately resources yes, but to burn a lifetime of potential for a singular moment was wasteful to the extreme.

Yet I knew that saying all this aloud wouldn't be the best course of action. The man was obviously proud of his work, and even when I was young and innocent I knew better than to insult Schugel's work lest he strap me onto another one of his death machines. The surest way of throwing myself into this man's displeasure would be of criticizing his work based on virtues he would have not agree with. Specifically, arguing about whether this was right or moral or good would be a waste of time.

I toyed, very, very, briefly, with the idea of just manifesting a magical explosion by the back of his head and killing him instantly. Obviously, I dismissed the idea after a few seconds of thought. There was no guarantee I would be able to properly eliminate him in the first strike, I had no idea of what protections he had, and assaulting him in the middle of his workshop was bound to activate some level of magical defenses I might not be familiar with. I couldn't risk not immediately killing him, because all he needed was a moment to bring his command seals to bear and that would be death of me surely. Then, even assuming I'd succeed, how would I be able to prosecute the war all on my own? He obviously had resources and contacts that would be useful to dealing with our enemies, and once I killed him I was on a very, very short clock of trying to find a potential magus to be my master.

No, violence wasn't the answer here, at least not yet. There were just too many unknown variables, too many risks and not enough certainties.

"Fascinating." I comment, before handing the crystal back to Galliasta. I needed to buy more time, a man so shortsighted to throw human resources away for a short term advantage was not a rational actor. Worse, he had access to command seals to compel my obedience, my options were incredibly limited. Still, I had to figure out something. "I'll admit, that sort of magic isn't something I'm familiar with. It's interesting seeing these 'deeper mysteries' at work. Nothing at all like the magecraft I'm familiar with."

The blonde man seemed taken aback at that, though he seemed to rally and smile at my words. I pretended not to notice. "Thank you, I knew you'd understand. As promising as the adherents of the spheres may be, they are not quite….well, magus as the rest of us. They rely too much on the morality of the uninitiated, and so whenever our kind reaches out to theirs the….aftermath is largely unwanted. It's promising that the Greatest of them is not so ignorant."

The Greatest of them? Now he is just buttering me up. I ignore the sycophantic comment and continue. "Yes well, I'm unsure as to the nature of the mages in this era, but for those I've always been particular in the education of those I've trained. Weiss, Koenig, Neumann, I've always taught them that we could not be uncivilized in our war. After all, if we could not hold ourselves to a higher standard, then the enemy certainly would not. We had to be precise, logical and most of all, cost effective."

Galliasta seemed to frown in thought at that, taking a look at his workshop at my comment. I continued. "It is my view that we are fighting a war. Your magic and my abilities must be leveraged for maximum efficiency. As a Caster I have resources and abilities outside the capabilities of our enemies, we should use them. As my Master, you have access to resources and abilities most other magi would not, we should use them."

He paused for a moment, considering the workshop, his face growing more and more serious. "Speak plainly, Caster."

"We must apply our abilities efficiently and with maximum impact." I repeated. "While this workshop is truly….I've seen nothing like it, I'm unsure if the sacrifice of a handful of orphans is cost efficient to the resources we gain afterwards."

"Oh?"

I nodded, unwilling to back down now that I'd said it aloud. "The generation of mana crystals is valuable, but considering the nature of the war we are to fight, insufficient. We're meant to operate in the darkness, away from direct combat classes like Saber or Archer. A mana crystal or twelve alone isn't capable of empowering either of us with the capability to withstand such brute force in mortal combat. Our position requires us to operate deliberately and carefully. We must be subtle and circumspect as our ally takes the attention of our enemies, brute force alone is not enough to win a war."

Memories of another battle, another war, came to me. A furious, broken girl's hateful visage screaming at me. "Our enemies may be more powerful than us, but power is not enough to win a war. Where our enemies would seek to overwhelm us with power, we may sidestep them and use our greater leverage to set them off balance. These crystals do not match well with that strategy."

"And what of dear Bazett herself?" Galliasta asked, his tone outwardly reasonable. "Would these crystals not assist her in her own battles? There's value there, wouldn't you say?"

I nodded, conceding the point briefly. "Perhaps, but if I may be frank? My contract states that I am to ensure that we win the war. For Atrum Galliasta and Tanya von Degurechaff to succeed and triumph, not for Bazett McRemits and Cu Chulainn. Using our own time and resources to empower them means an opportunity cost in which we are weakening ourselves for them. Should the unthinkable occur and they die, that means we've lost a significant amount in our investment. Worst still, should they turn on us-"

"Bazett would not turn on us." Galliasta contested somewhat hotly. "She's loyal to the Association."

"...be that as it may." I continued. "That does not mean that she could not be compelled to treachery. Whether via magical compulsion or simple blackmail, she may not have a choice, and if Cu Chulainn is set against us, empowered by our efforts? Well, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, Master."

A longer pause now, as he studied the contraption, from the glass container to the computer and back to the central pillar. He turned his gaze over to me, the hardness in his features gone, a curious expression on his face.

"You may have a point" Galliasta allowed, though he frowned slightly as he said it. It seemed clear he wasn't entirely pleased by the outcome of the conversation. "I'm not foolish enough to pretend mastery in a field I know nothing in. You were the Mistress of War, and it's obvious to me now that strategy and tactics is your forte. Perhaps my own academic interest was limiting the potential to apply my mystery in the war. Despite that, you cut to the heart of the matter, recognizing it's current limitations. As it is, it would be insufficient to prosecute a war solely by itself."

I inclined my head, accepting the comment gracefully. "Thank you, Master."

He continued, his voice taking on a strange tone I couldn't quite decipher. "Your legend spoke to your ruthlessness, but I thought that the reports for it were simply exaggerated. Surely you were simply a child, and that ruthlessness you displayed merely occurred from the circumstances of your youth. It seemed I've erred. It was a shame you were born to their world, you would have made an excellent magus."

"It was something I'd learned as a child,you are right there Master, and so I brought that lesson with me as I grew older." I answered politely, before continuing. "Considering your resources, I think we can commit to a more effective strategy if we utilize your wealth. I have several ideas I can offer you which I think would be quite acceptable, even as it pertains to the strategy with McRemitz."

But Galliasta seemed to have checked out of the conversation by this point, simply nodding his head absentmindedly as he gazed upon the machine. I sighed in relief, it was better for him to be distracted actually. Now that I'd pointed it out, Galliasta had wisely recognized the flaws in the current strategy, which meant that this atrocity wouldn't continue, at least for now.

That wasn't the only concern, however.

It was clear to me now that Galliasta was a sinking ship. Even if I'd corrected his inefficiency now, that didn't mean his prior crimes would be forgiven. Surely, kidnapping and human sacrifice of this scale would have been noted by the Association, and any day now the FBI magus equivalent would be storming this pretty tower to take him into custody.

That would mean we'd lose the war. No, more specifically, that would mean I'd lose the war, that I'd lose my opportunity to stand in front of the Holy Grail and cast my wish.

That…..that simply wasn't acceptable.

I looked down to my hands, then to Galliasta's own, his command seals burning brightly to my sight.

I needed another alternative. This was the chance of a lifetime, of several dozen lifetimes probably, I might never have this chance again. With odds so high that Galliasta would die and leave me a loser by default, I needed to find the other Masters of this war. Surely the odds of a Servant dying before their Master was fairly high, what with Servants being sent out into the front lines more often? As such, I needed to find them. Study and understand these Masters, and when the inevitable happened and Galliasta found himself dead, to be ready to jump ship and continue to prosecute the war.

I suppressed a sigh of frustration, easier said than done. I mean, what were the odds that I'd even find any of them before the war started?


	5. X. Masters

Emiya Shirou wondered if the two were related somehow.

He was obviously familiar with the blonde haired man. His immediate superior had made it very clear to all of her staff that they were to treat the man and whatever women he brought with him as though they were royalty itself. She had made their importance clear, and had further outlined that if any of them would do anything to upset Galliasta-san and his date that she would personally see them all buried beneath the Fuyuki City docks with concrete boots. The boy had felt somewhat put off by that, considering that he always treated customers with the utmost respect and professionalism. Nonetheless, he shrugged it off. If it was important enough to overstate then it had to be important enough to follow, and he'd hate to let his boss down by being unprofessional.

Though judging from the horror stories of his co-workers, it wasn't so much unprofessional behavior on their part and more...the art of discretion that they should practice. They'd gone on and on about how Galliasta-san was often uh, intimate, with his guests, which meant that regardless of what happened the boy really shouldn't interfere. Shirou had worried about that for a moment, a stream of possible reasons for that cropping up in his mind, and had asked his boss whether that meant they should call the police. After being told that he was a massive idiot, he was forced to re-conceptualize the situation, and had been assured by an amused co-worker that it was more like he and his dates were just like that. Considering that Emiya Shirou had never been in such a position, he was forced to accept this scenario. Perhaps it would make sense if he ever got into a relationship?

Still, logic dictated he stay with the restaurant for as long as possible. For a part time job, it paid very well, more than some of the starting salaries of more permanent jobs he'd been offered. It wasn't that he was greedy or anything like that, but considering that his expenses included feeding himself, Fuji-ne and Sakura, then it made sense for him to continue working here. After all, if all the job required was a certain level of discretion, then that was ultimately a small price to pay in the long run right?

Though truth be told, it was fairly easy to manage dinner if it was just with Sakura. The gentle purple haired girl was fairly low-maintenance all things considered, assisting him with meals and buying groceries and the like. It was when Fuji-ne entered one's calculations that things went terribly, terribly, wrong. He had once sat down and made calculations on the effect that the 'Tiger of Fuyuki' had on his wallet, and had somehow reached the horrifying conclusion that his expenses in feeding her alone outweighed feeding her and Sakura somehow. Shirou wasn't entirely sure why this was the case, but was aware enough that asking her adopted-but-not-really elder sister about it would only lead to a world of pain, and so kept his peace. He still had some semblance of self preservation, ragged and limping as it was.

Still, when that girl had first entered the restaurant, Shirou had no idea that she was Galliasta-san's companion until he'd arrived half an hour later. He had no particularly strong opinions regarding her before that point; the red haired boy had been on the lookout for when Galliasta-san and his date would arrive after all, and considering the blonde seemed deep in thought about something or other, he felt it would be rude to single her out or anything. As soon as her….date (boyfriend?) arrived though, Shirou wondered if perhaps he'd made some kind of faux pas. Perhaps he should have asked her if she wanted some kind of private room or anything like that, and had prepared to be yelled at because of his laxness.

Thankfully, that never occurred. The two merely had a relatively short conversation, and all the distinctly improper things he'd been warned beforehand failed to manifest. He considered the probability that he'd been pranked somehow, that this was how his co-workers bloodied the newcomers by making them worry unnecessarily about some specific scenario that would never happen. By the time Galliasta-san moved to leave, Shirou was fairly certain that his colleagues had just been messing with him somehow and wondered whether he should act surprised or irritated or figure out what kind of response they would want from him.

Shirou sighed. Still, this wasn't too bad. Considering the pay involved, he could live with a few pranks like that if he had to. He lived with the Tiger of Fuyuki after all, and if managing her on a near daily basis wasn't enough to break him then neither would-

"Excuse me?"

The red haired youth blinked for a moment, before looking down at the blonde haired girl in front of him. The girl had come to his side swiftly and quietly, moving such that Shirou hadn't even noticed her stand up from her seat. She was looking at him expectantly, somewhat impatiently actually, and he found himself tongue tied.

It wasn't so much that she was attractive, though that was certainly part of it. The girl's dress, while modest and not at all improper, hugged her body in a way that he found distracting. Her skin tone was foreign and exotic, and the way her blonde curls framed her face seemed almost angelic. Fuji-ne might tease to her heart's content that Shirou wouldn't know what infatuation was even if it served him dinner and called him senpai, but even he could say that the girl was rather beautiful.

If it was only that though, he could cope, but her eyes told a different story. He hadn't been paying attention to her when he was serving her, he was merely doing his job after all, but even if he was he doubted he would have realized it then. She hadn't been looking straight at him until now, after all.

If the eyes were the windows to one's soul, then this girl's soul was a silent, frigid sea. They were a cold cobalt blue, with a gaze that effortlessly stripped through his defenses, flaying the skin and meat off his very bones to regard the truth of him etched into his soul. There was a piercing intelligence to her gaze, an awareness and experience that did not match her own youthful visage. Instead, it seemed to almost make a mockery of it, the juxtaposition of the innocence on her face and the knowledge buried beneath her eyes a nearly hideous contrast.

Shirou knew immediately, without having seen them, that she was different from Galliasta-san's other companions. She was too strange, too singular, too unique, for the others to be like her. This realization did nothing to ameliorate the fact that his tongue had completely forgotten the gift of language, with his brain only briefly catching up to what his ears were hearing.

"-talking now, correct?"

The boy blinked again, feeling more and more stupid by the second. He blushed, feeling like an idiot, before responding.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am, but could you repeat the question?"

With that, the girl sighed, breaking eye contact with him and Shirou resisted the urge to stagger back. Quick, shallow, breaths entered his lungs, the realization that his body had been deprived of oxygen briefly confusing him. Nonetheless, he stayed strong, his eyes alert and determined into not embarrassing himself any further.

"I was asking you whether you were the waiter that served us earlier." she reiterated, slower this time.

"A-ah yes, Ma'am." Shirou spat out in a panic. The blonde haired girl's eyebrow quirked at that, which only prompted a further level of embarrassment from the boy.

"Very well then, here you go. You did well."

Shirou frowned in confusion, before the girl handed him a….not insubstantial amount of money. His eyes bulged at the amount, it was worth roughly half a month's worth of wages! A large portion of his brain was horrified, flinching away from her hand as though it were radioactive. A smaller portion of his brain pointed out that this was merely proper payment for services rendered, and if they accepted this now then the Tiger's Hunger could be suppressed for another week. The rest of his brain quietly rebelled against the idea. It just wasn't proper.

"Ma'am, I can't possibly accept this." Shirou pleaded weakly. The girl's eyebrow quirked higher at that.

"How brave of you, to reject a pretty girl's gift." she remarked, a statement that Shirou simply was not equipped to respond to. The blonde tilted her head for a moment, looking back at the serving staff who were dutifully not intervening on Shirou's behalf, before looking back at the boy.

"I'm aware of the Akinese propensity for humility and rejecting proper remuneration." she began impatiently. "And typically, I would be more than happy to debate with you the validity of tipping in a service based industry, but I really am pressed for time. So either you accept this as payment for services rendered, or you annoy me with your pig-headed stubbornness and I come back later with even more money to embarrass you further."

The words that came out of Shirou's mouth had more similarity to the death rattle of a drowning man than that of regular conversation, but the girl seemed to take it as an affirmative. Reaching over towards his breast pocket, she deposited the money there before taking a look at his name tag.

"Emiya Shirou, huh?" she murmured, looking back at the boy and patting him gently on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

And with that, the girl walked away, skirt bouncing in the breeze as she opened the doorway and left the restaurant, presumably chasing after Galliasta-san.

A few moments passed, whereupon he was promptly surrounded by the rest of his colleagues, confusion and curiosity abound in equal measure. Shirou himself would fail to recognize the scattered, envious, looks he got from some of the male staff as well as the more curious observations on the mystery girl's fashion sense from the female staff. Nonetheless, all their questions cleanly entered one ear and exited the other for Emiya Shirou, his lagging thoughts catching up to the present and leaving him with a horrified realization.

He'd been incredibly unprofessional. He didn't even know her name.

* * *

**I**

* * *

_"Don't worry about it, Tanya-chan. We all have bad days."_

Rin closed the door behind her, leaving the strange, aggravated, woman behind her as she walked towards the manor. She made sure not to turn around or show any hints of weakness as she did, ensuring for the most part that she presented a noble, unassailable, visage as she walked away. Rin allowed herself only a moment to look back, when she had to turn around to close the door, and by that point the strange blonde girl had disappeared.

Even then, she didn't allow herself to relax, closing the door before leaning on its solid oak frame. Rin sighed, stilling her raging heartbeat as she slid down onto the floor. Silently, she cursed to herself.

"What was that?" she muttered, her breathing heavy as she calmed her heart. "What was that?"

The Tohsaka heiress prided herself upon her composure. She was no two bit, third rate, first generation magus after all. She was Tohsaka Rin, daughter of Tohsaka Tokiomi and scion to the Tohsaka Family, with all that entailed. In the moonlit world, to show fear to her peers was the same as to bare one's neck, to be ignorant was to court death. Rin was aware, of course, that this was only the ideal. Fear was a biological impulse synonymous to life itself, ignorance was a given to everyone, the elimination of it a magus's ultimate goal. Despite that, one could not allow one's fears and base impulses to command them, doubly so for allowing someone to know that you were ignorant.

Rin had spotted the forlorn looking girl from afar, though less from any particular skill in perception than that it was difficult not to notice her. It wasn't her blonde hair or her clothes that made her so noticeable, Argent cosplayers were common enough that it didn't even merit all that much mention even in school. What was noticeable though was the aura of melancholy that enveloped her like a shroud. It was suffocating honestly, and if Rin were to transpose the image of the girl staring out over the horizon onto some cheap noir paperback novel then she'd fit perfectly. It should also be noted that, considering Tohsaka Rin's own peculiarities, she would consider a noir paperback modern literature.

Nonetheless, Tohsaka Rin was the Second Owner of Fuyuki, with all the responsibilities and privileges that may entail. As such, despite the misery emanating off the girl like the cloying scent of a dead animal, Rin found herself compelled to approach her. Fuyuki was her city after all, and a combination of nobleese oblige and sheer curiosity had led her into a conversation with the girl with the intent to cheer her up. Or at the very minimum get her off her front door.

That conviction made it only as far as the strange girl turning her attention to her.

Rin remembered, vaguely, a concept that her books had explored in passing. It supposed that humans, as creatures that craved social interaction and order, possessed a crude sort of tribalism intended to protect members of their group. For mundane threats, from before mankind had struggled out of the filth and muck of primordial sapience, it had served quite well in the protection of their kind. In protecting the tribe against the monsters of the night, such instincts caused disparate peoples to band together against a common foe. It was when such threats expanded beyond the mundane, into the strange abnormal mysticism of the moonlit world, that such instincts began to break down.

Because oftentimes there were threats and entities that aped the human form, phenomena that flew defiantly in the face of what was considered mundane, and it was these threats that confused the human psyche. Oftentimes mundane souls would look upon something abnormal, something strange, and be completely flabbergasted as to what it represented. It was an important factor for why Magi trained their offspring into abandoning the mindset and perspectives of the mundane world; not only as a means to ruthlessly pursue Akasha, but such that a Magi could look into that abnormal void without fear.

It was this awareness, this knowledge, that kept Tohsaka Rin from fleeing as Tanya Degurechaff locked eyes with her.

The heiress didn't know who she was of course, her curious words towards the stranger intended purely as that, curious words intended to determining if the strange blonde girl had needed help. Rin had expected irritation, most people didn't respond well to being poked while emotionally vulnerable, but she had figured that even if that were the case it would be fine. A small, very quiet, altruistic part of her would say that a moment of irritation in exchange for the certainty that the other person was alright was a good trade. The vast majority of the rest of her would say that, by virtue of essentially being nobility in these lands, the opinion of the common folk had as much effect on her as a splash of water to a duck.

What she hadn't expected were piercingly blue eyes, the color of an azure sky, staring at her with such vexation. For a moment, Tohsaka Rin was transported to her childhood, in the very rare few moments she had done something to irritate her father. The emotion Tohsaka Tokiomi held for her was very different from what the blonde stranger held, disappointment in comparison to frustration, but the effect was all the same. As though her soul flinched away from the sight, the recognition of something stranger and grander causing one's subconscious to freeze in fear.

In a normal person, they wouldn't be able to identify what, exactly, that emotion was. Where it came from, or what it had been. The Tohsaka heiress was not only an abnormal person, though one would pay a steep price in saying that to her face, but also a remarkably self controlled one. In the moment she felt that trepidation, that fear, she steeled it within her heart. She choked the emotion, stalling enough that she could carry out a meandering, somewhat pointless conversation, long enough to escape without the blonde girl noticing anything amiss.

Rin sighed, standing on unsteady legs as she collected herself, taking her mind to task on the problem.

Rin was vaguely aware that her education was not the most comprehensive. Of course she'd focused extensively on her family's mysteries, following the path her father had set for her, but even that was limited in its own way. Acquiring such knowledge was doable due to her access to the family libraries, but she was aware that paled in comparison to having an actual master in the craft continue her education. Unfortunately with….her father not capable of doing that, her apprenticeship had fallen to that man. However, as skilled as Kotomine Kirei was in combat, the more intellectual aspects of magecraft had simply not been transmitted to the girl. Or rather, Kirei could have taught the totality of what he knew to her, he just didn't bother. As such, she was forced to form a hypothesis with minimal facts and an uncertain knowledge base.

The girl outside was unusual, terribly so. Rin was of half a mind to conclude that she wasn't human, perhaps a Dead Apostle or other such predator that preyed upon humanity, but she couldn't quite bring herself to that conclusion. From the stories that man had told her, she couldn't quite imagine those soulless, ruthless, predators moping out on the streets like she'd been doing.

There was no denying that there was something inhuman about her, or perhaps she should say something more than human? Even as thoroughly miserable as the mystery girl had been, there was a….dignity to her posture, a grace to her bearing, that hinted at her not quite being what she appeared to be. The odds were good that even the physical characteristics she wore, her hair, her body and perhaps even her voice were manufactured or created in some way. There was no way she was a natural human being, not while looking so much like Her.

It was at this point that one would, perhaps tentatively, consider that the strange girl was a Servant. However, Rin rejected that possibility outright. What use did a Heroic Spirit have to be mopey and depressed in the middle of the street? Why would a Heroic Spirit walk about in casual wear instead of the much more efficient spirit form? Why would a Heroic Spirit potentially expose themselves against an enemy Master for little to no gain?

It was too unusual, too unreal a possibility, and so she merely rejected it and moved on, shaking her head as she did so.

She sighed, feeling her pulse settle down to their usual levels. It really was uncanny, how similar the girl looked to the Princess. Perhaps-

The heiress frowned at that, a hand under her chin as she thought about that some more. Manufactured. Inhuman. European features.

She banged her head against the door. Yelping at the pain, though she dismissed it a few moments later, after a few infuriated stomps onto the ground.

That girl, so obviously formed into Chancellor Degurechaff's image, lurking just outside her house? It had to be a homunculus, an Einzbern homunculus. It all fit, from the almost irritated way it had talked to her, to the unreal grace and perfection of a doll, to the suspicious circumstances that had brought her to the front of the manor. Obviously she didn't fit the standard mode of the crimson eyes and silver hair so common to that family, but who said that just because the Einzberns made their dolls with that shape that they had to form them the same way all the time? Surely they had to have spies, and considering the number of people running about cosplaying as the Devil of the Rhine, wouldn't it make sense to have someone that sort of fit the population demographic?

The rush of victory, at figuring out that puzzle, didn't last long. After all, if one accepted that the Einzberns were skulking outside her manor, then that meant she was in a far more dangerous situation that she had originally thought. The Einzberns were already present in the city, they were established enough that they'd begun putting out feelers. They were confident enough to send one of their own to her doorstep, mocking her, showing that she was ill-prepared to carry out her father's legacy.

Rin growled in irritation. Those arrogant, albino, aristocratic assholes! How dare they mock her. So what if she didn't have a Servant yet? This was her land, her city, and they think that they could just waltz in and take what was her's by right? The Einzberns may have helped create the ritual, but the Tohsakas bled and died for it just as much as they had!

Tohsaka Rin, furious and wrathful, left the doorway and delved deeper into her home. Like an oncoming storm she climbed up the staircase of her manor, opening the rarely ventured office of her father, and grasped at the box he had left behind.

It was time to put her all into this war. She'd break her father's code, she'd absent herself from school if she had to. If one of the Three Families was so far ahead of her that they could afford to mock her, it meant that she just wasn't applying herself enough. That was about to change right this instant.

The night was young and so was she, and her muttered frustrations and focused anger lasted well into the night.

* * *

**II**

* * *

Bazett recognized that it was unbecoming for her to look as happy as she felt now.

The Enforcer conceded to herself that there were a variety of reasons for why one would look...pleased. As a member of the Mages Association she was meant to have a certain degree of gravitas; to the likes of any unaffiliated magus or to the isolated Einzberns, she was the face of the organization for this war after all. Well, her and Galliasta, but that man barely counted at all in her eyes. Prior to their departure to Fuyuki, he had asked for an alliance, outlining a plan that would take advantage of their relative strengths and weaknesses. He'd argued that, considering they were both members of the Association, cooperation made the most sense between them. Bazett had, of course, responded that she'd be open to it, presuming that no unexpected situations occurred once they'd actually reached the city. Galliasta had seemed content with that, telling her that he'd call once the war got started.

Privately, she'd hoped he'd get himself eliminated from contention before anything of that sort would happen. The strategy made sense, all things considered, and by uniting their forces they had a better chance of winning compared to their competitors. As such, logic dictated for her to accept his offer, but that didn't necessarily mean she enjoyed it. To be fair, it wasn't so much that she hated him, it would be a shame if he died as he was a magus after all, but Bazett had met literal vultures with more charm and amiability than that man. She could barely stomach his smug attitude at the best of times, she couldn't imagine how he'd act should the war be won for the Association. She'd probably be listening to him go on and on about 'winning the grail war' for decades even if she would have done the heavy lifting.

Nonetheless, she wouldn't allow that idiot to invade her thoughts. Not here, not now. Not when she'd finally done it.

Not when she'd finally summoned him.

"Are you alright there, Missy?" the Servant called out, and she suppressed the urge to squeal in delight. Missy. Her.

"Yes, Lancer?" Bazett called back, her voice remarkably steady. From the corner of her vision, she saw her Servant turn around, his gaze encompassing the entirety of the temple. She took the time to do the same, it would hardly befit her status as a Master to let her Servant do all the work after all.

It seemed a sober, quiet, place. Bazett had never really had reason to visit the Akinese before, in a way this was more of a business excursion than some vacation afer all. Still, what she'd seen so far hadn't put her off exactly. Beyond their obsession with certain aspects of foreign culture, she found the orderliness rather appealing. Certainly nothing like the barbarous east that the Clock Tower thought of. The enforcer imagined that had she found herself in the country for some other reason than the war, she might have even found it pleasant.

"It's a nice view, I'll have to admit." he comments, though Bazett could sense a tinge of frustration in his tone. "But I gotta say? When your source said that something interesting was up here, I was thinking more in the lines of an actual fight. Now I'm just disappointed."

The enforcer shrugged. "Let's try not to cause any unnecessary damage here, Lancer. Be that as it may though, the priest's information is usually good, so if he thinks that there's something worthwhile on the Temple, then there probably is. Be patient."

Lancer chuckled at that, that hint of frustration seeping away at her words. "Fair enough, missy. You're the boss."

Bazett couldn't help but grin at that. She'd wanted to temper her expectations of course, it was rare that one's legend about a person matched the reality of who they were, but Cu Chulainn had somehow matched her expectations. It had only been a few days since she'd summoned him of course, and for all she knew he was putting out an act but….

Well, despite herself, she couldn't help but feel a bit excitable.

Both Master and Servant walked deeper into the temple courtyards, finding only a chill silence in their way. Despite her earlier words, Bazett frowned in confusion. She'd always found Kotomine to be a professional, highly effective co-worker of sorts. She knew enough about his psychology that if he would have never offered them the information on the temple unless he was absolutely certain it was correct. She'd gone here almost immediately after hearing about it after all, the chance to cut down an enemy servant while they were still establishing themselves upon the mountain was too good a chance to let go.

Bazett took another look around the temple, admiring the place despite herself. It really was an ideal fortress, if not for the fact that she and Lancer were better suited for hit and run tactics, she would have been tempted to make this her headquarters. Then again, being so far away from the rest of the city would have been a pain. She couldn't imagine how tiresome it would be to get groceries.

"Master."

There was something in the Servant's tone, something strange, that caused the magus to shift gears. Runic sorcery flared across her limbs, a conflagration of color that sparked briefly in the dark of the night before transmuting into a dull ember seared across her gloves. Dark eyes scanned across the courtyard, coldly searching for anything strange, anything that did not fit. In the worst case scenario, she'd been lured into a trap by Assassin, and so she could not rely solely on the visual spectrum. There were countless ways one could deceive another's sight, and she refused to be so pitiful as to be the first to die in this war.

But no attack came. Bazett's stance was open and welcoming, all but inviting an attacker to ambush her. The enforcer had faith in her abilities, and what faith could not provide, Lancer most certainly could. Despite that, the night remained cold and uneasy, the stillness of the temple, the soft breeze of the air through her hair, the gentle fluttering of the leaves-

_-a flash of white, barely seen, hidden among the trees-_

"Lancer." the Master called out, and her Servant responded. A blur of red flashed through her vision, a silent lightning bolt that had her hair flutter in the breeze, only to end in a thick, heavy, crunch as Gae Bolg embedded itself into a nearby tree. The weapon's flight pulverized anything and everything in it's way, nearly splitting the offending tree in twain, the sound of its impact echoing throughout the forest. A small flock of birds fled the scene, screaming out into the night.

The pair was silent as Lancer called back his weapon, Gae Bolg liberating itself from the tree before swiftly returning to its master's side. It hovered before the two of them, perfect and silent, its blood-thirst palpable even for her. At the tip of the spear was-

Bazett blinked, as her gloved hands reached out to take what appeared to be a plain handkerchief from the spear tip. It was laced with blood, some form of magic having imparted a degree of mobility and awareness to the cloth, closer to that of a familiar than anything else. The lance's impact had obliterated whatever prana the cloth had been imbued with, leaving only a wide hole right in the middle of the material.

She frowned, leaning in closer as the moonlight revealed more details and she internally amended her initial analysis. Not laced with blood at all; upon closer inspection, it seemed that something had been illustrated on the surface. Some crude drawing of what appeared to be a small girl, Lancer's blow having pierced right through 'her' chest. Bazett frowned.

"What in the world?"

Beside her, Lancer leaned forward, chuckling as he got a better look. "Oh my, how interesting. It seems our opponent has a sense of humor, Master."

At Bazett's confused glance, his finger pointed out the small fangs peeking out of the illustration's mouth, as well as the pair of sharp horns atop her head. "It's Germania-chan."

At Bazeet's even more confused stare, Lancer coughed. "...while I was out on reconnaissance earlier, I spotted drawings of a similar style. It's a famous trend, as far as I can see. Some kind of-"

"Okay, okay, I get it." the girl interrupted, shaking her head and studying the handkerchief. Its purpose seemed clear enough, but the design was non-standard. No self respecting magus would besmirch their work with such a lighthearted illustration, and any hint to the sophistication of the familiar was lost when a noble phantasm destroyed it.

Nonetheless, such information would have been useful to know, but not at all necessary. She turned to her Servant. "I've never seen anything like this, but that doesn't really matter much right now. It looks like we've been found out though."

"You might be right." Lancer grinned, a feral look on his face. "Your orders?"

Bazett shook her head in mock frustration. She could tell it would be bothersome getting him to reign it in every once in a while. "Go through the temple, see if you can find any traces of a Magus or Servant. Once you're done, come back to me."

"And where will you be?"

Bazett pocketed the broken familiar, something for further study. "Kotomine informed me that the there are several tunnels nearby the Temple which could lead one down to the leylines underneath the mountain. If someone left a familiar out to guard the perimeter of the temple, then it stands to reason that they're here to do something about the leylines. I'm headed there, clear out the temple then return to me once you're done.

"By clear out, do you mean-"

"Don't kill anybody." Bazett sighed, walking towards the tunnels, nary a glance at Lancer. "Just go in spirit form, don't engage anyone that doesn't look like a Master or a Servant."

Lancer's chuckle sent chills up her spine, but she was determined not to show any reaction to him. A gentle wind caressed her back, and she knew the man was on the move. Bazett continued walking, setting her sights to the back of the temple, as Kotomine had said.

The path to the tunnels was as clean and well maintained as the path to the temple itself, yet by now such neatness did little to actually assuage her. Something had been watching the temple, had managed to see both her and Lancer for at least a few seconds before they could stop the familiar's transmission. That alone gave their opposition a significant advantage compared to what she and Lancer currently possessed, and Bazett's eyes scanned each and every shadow she passed by. Power surged in her fists, prana cycling through the runic augmentations upon her limbs, her nerves thrumming with power.

In time, the foreboding cavern that was the entrance to the tunnels yawned in front of her. Eyes flicked towards the ground, noting a thin layer of dust and dirt, comparatively undisturbed compared to the meticulously clean stone floors behind her. That in and of itself wasn't enough to indicate that no one had walked this path however. The very first mysteries a self respecting magus would be aware of was how to cover their tracks.

Bazett sensed soft footsteps behind her, and she turned quickly to find Lancer manifesting into his physical form a few steps away from her. He seemed his usual self, the same casual confidence that she found disarming, and yet something was different. There were no outward signs of why she felt so, but if the limit of Bazett's ability to read people relied only on what could be seen on the surface, she wouldn't have gone this far in life. The Servant seemed to recognize her attention, and chuckled.

"Well it seems you're right, miss." he shrugged. "It looks like someone's been here."

Bazett controlled the spike of adrenaline that rushed into her veins at his words, merely giving him a curious look. "Oh? Did you find someone at the temple?"

Lancer shook his head. "Nah, I didn't. No one alive anyway."

That spike of adrenaline turned into a sub dermal chill as she found herself staring at the Servant in shock. The entire temple's staff, slaughtered? Surely not. "Are you sure? How'd they die?"

The Servant shrugged. "Bladed weapon, precise cuts to their arteries and organs, first rate professional work if I do say so myself. I don't know how many priests lived in the temple per se, but maybe a dozen or so didn't make it. Most seemed to have died where they stood, but not all. There's signs of a struggle, and maybe a few people escaped, hard to tell."

He paused, before giving his Master a look. "You know, you told me that most Masters participating in this war would care about minimizing casualties, but that doesn't seem the case here huh? Whoever did this didn't really care about any 'unnecessary casualties', so we're dealing with someone ruthless enough to kill whoever he needs to."

"Your point?" Bazett growled, and Lancer raised his hand in apology, before twirling his spear lazily and setting it on his shoulders, his gaze set upon his Master.

"My point, miss, would be that at least one person here's not gonna be following the rules of the war, or at least is gonna be playing fast and loose with it." Lancer shrugged. "I don't mind limiting ourselves that way, it's gonna be fun fighting Servants no matter what, and there's no shame in losing to an opponent that's doing their absolute best to win. Still, I just gotta say that if we're gonna try making this a 'clean' war, then we're just giving our opponents an unnecessary advantage."

Bazett said nothing, her irritation mounting. She knew the stories about the Holy Grail War, that in the previous wars the participants had committed atrocity after atrocity to gain an edge over their competitors. It had been an unavoidable topic of discussion for anyone even thinking about participating, and while information on the previous wars were unusually difficult to retrieve, there were events too big for even the Association to cover up completely. Events like the Hyatt Hotel attack or the Fuyuki Station bombing showed just how ruthless and deranged the previous war had gone as Masters and Servants ravaged each other.

However, those instances, terrible though they may be, had some semblance of logic to it. This just seemed like...barbarity for barbarity's sake. Magi were ruthlessly logical creatures, and wouldn't commit to something of this magnitude without a reason. So considering that, the only reason she could think of….

"Lancer."

"Yes, miss?"

She sighed, adjusting her gloves. "We're going underground, beneath the 'll scan through every nook and cranny, and see if whoever done this fled through the tunnels. The perpetrators had to have done this for a reason. If I had to guess, leaving the bodies out in the open would mean a lock down of the entire mountain, with police swarming the area and making any kind of approach difficult. A magus with even a limited amount of mesmerism would be able to use those people as an additional layer of security while they operated beneath the temple."

Lancer whistled. "That sounds like a good plan. You sure you didn't kill all those people and wanted to surprise me instead?"

She scoffed. "Of course not, idiot. But it's the only reason I can think of for someone to do this, now are you coming or not?"

Lancer smirked, twirling his weapon once more, Gae Bolg glinting a hungry red in the darkness. "Ready and always, Master."

Bazett shook her head, amusement at Lancer's confidence warring with the exasperation of his arrogance, and walked towards the tunnel before her. Lancer followed her, his weapon twirling lazy around his fingertips, as both of them stepped into the darkness together.


	6. 1.4

**1.4**

Rules were important in any man made endeavor, from the rules we set down for ourselves when young to the grander assemblies of total war and corporate profit making that were the foundation for modern society as we know it. I appreciated rules, they made things simpler, the lines between what was acceptable and unacceptable clear, while at the same time ensuring a degree of moral acceptability for those that stood by those rules and those who didn't. There were times when the rules didn't make sense or came about organically without any guiding logic behind it and yet still people followed them blindly. For most, it didn't quite matter if the rules didn't make sense or not, what mattered was that everyone thought they did. When I worked as a salary man, some of the more ridiculous rules about overwork were, if it came down to it, rather silly. Despite that, everyone followed them anyway because by sticking to those rules one was safe, and by flouting those rules you were labeled an outcast. That same rule applied in the war; no matter how rough or brutal they became, as long as I wasn't the first to break those rules then I maintained a degree of moral superiority that was politically invaluable.

It was with this knowledge in mind, and as I'd been explaining to Galliasta earlier, that I found this war was so irritating.

For you see, in considering a strategy for the Holy Grail War, I had to be aware of the specific rules that bound all participants. The fact that the rules themselves were astonishingly few, meant that participants were welcome to be more flexible with their strategies, given more leave to explore plans that involved something more sophisticated than beating each other silly with sticks and bits of metal. The Holy Church watched over the entirety of Fuyuki for the extent of the War, and as such functioned as moderators for if and when the battle for the Grail went too far. Yet even that was a flimsy sort of authority, Galliasta's information on the war, incomplete as it was, had told me that in the last war the participants had been murdering children, bombing multiple public and private institutions and even killed the moderator overseeing the war, and yet the war continued regardless.

I could draw several conclusions out of these observations, the most important being that the moderator was not operating on good faith. A moderator with authority over all participants should be able to exercise their power as they saw fit according to the rules of the war, and yet they allowed a priest to operate in the war, a priest who's father had been the moderator at the time. Beyond that, in a practical sense, the moderators themselves had very little effective power. If they should be eliminated, there would be no reprisal that would occur in time for one to be disqualified from claiming the Grail. More to the point, there didn't seem to be any sort of mechanism to disqualify anyone, resulting in the moderator having significantly reduced authority and power than one would expect. That is to say, their power and authority lasted only for as long as they lived, and only inasmuch as all parties found appropriate. If, for whatever reason, the moderator would have found some way to irritate all seven combatants, then the extent of their authority would be as far as they could flee before those same combatants would smear their guts from Fuyuki all the way to the Holy See.

After further consideration, that actually made sense. From my understanding, the War was developed as a collaboration between the Three Families. For any one authority to have such control as to unilaterally disqualify someone would have been unacceptable, and so the rules they set in place ensured plenty of wiggle room for creative strategies in dealing with the non-affiliated combatants. The only immutable rule was the elimination of all other servants to achieve the Grail's manifestation. Usage of resources and authority beyond the purview of one's own competencies such as wealth or familial influence were not explicitly banned so as to ensure the Three Families could resort to those same strategies. The only cardinal rule that was de facto agreed upon by all members was to ensure that the mundane population would not be aware of the ritual in question.

Very few real rules. Loopholes explicitly baked into the system. It was clear to me that the Three Families were not operating in good faith, which in turn meant that I could afford to be more creative.

"Alright then, ladies and gentlemen." I smiled demurely at the two dozen figures in front of me. "Let me just say how honored I am to be working with your esteemed company. I've heard so much about your work, and Mr. Galliasta has truly appreciated your performance over the past few days."

Despite his ethical bankruptcy and impending death via the international court of law, Galliasta was cunning enough to use his wealth judiciously wherever and whenever he believed an advantage could be gained. The acquisition of the Tower, the development of his experiments, the preparation of false identities and other documentation for the both of us, they were all prepared rather thoroughly and not inexpensively.

As such, this included the purchased security for the Tower. A large portion had been mundane security guards, drawn from a number of local security firms based within the country to safeguard Galliasta's financial assets. However, a select few had been more than that, hired at the man's whim, more out of mere impulse and prestige rather than due to any actual feasible plan in place. I had reviewed their reports, dutifully carried out and sent to Galliasta who had subsequently left them to mold at some forgotten desk of his. Veterans of conflicts in Africa, South America and Asia, all tasked to babysit my Master's favorite concubine of the week or to serve as plainclothes bodyguards whenever he had the urge to visit a McRonald's. My old Finance Minister would have wept at the sheer indulgence.

Of course, offensive utilization of such resources in the war would have been uncomfortably close to breaking that cardinal rule. I imagined there wouldn't be any issue in how they were currently being used, as glorified chauffeurs and security guards, at least for now. The moment we send squads of rent-a-cops to invade a magus's lair though? Well, first of all they'd likely all die horribly, but second of all the stink the other Magi would raise about involving mundane assets would surely get me on the chopping block with Galliasta when the Magus Association would come for us. On top of that, these people were mercenaries. That is to say, they were logical, reasonable and talented individuals who would be aware at the approximate level of conflict their skills would allow them to function at. Mundane mercenaries whose knowledge of magic began and ended with 'exploding artillery shells from a mile away' was not conducive to convincing them to fight magi who could conceivably do even worse things to them.

I took a look at the men and women in front of me, their faces staring back at me expectantly. They came from a variety of nationalities, but all wore the same grey and dark blue uniform of Tresillo Defense Services. Now that name meant nothing to me, but according to Galliasta they were a mercenary company based in Hispania. Beyond the local rent-a-cop businesses we'd used to safeguard our assets, it was Tresillo's men that Galliasta truly went all in for. Supposedly they'd been involved in suppressing some colonial problems for the Francois in the past that had impressed him. As such, their work for him was attached to a contract that had them in play for as long as my Master was alive. I could see the logic of it, their company had seen plenty of action against both mundane and mage opponents, so I didn't have any doubts about their capacity for selective violence.

Of course, veterans or not, if that had been the only difference between them and the rest of the rent-a-cops, this still wouldn't be doable. They did differ, however, in that they were all mages.

Neither as mundane as general population, yet uninfected with the cultural mores of magi society, there was potential here that I doubt any other group in the war could take advantage of. Galliasta had said that there had been times in the past where magi and mages at least attempted to collaborate, so that means there exists a grey area in regards to magi interacting with their more public counterparts. That meant, in turn, that they were a vague enough category that they did not expressly go against the rules of the war. At the very worst case scenario, by the time one could make the case on the validity of the approach, the war would be over and won. The complaints of the magi by that point would be moot, they couldn't just retroactively take back our victory after all, and I'd be very thoroughly not here by the time that happened.

"Now, Mr. Galliasta had been assured that you are all the best of the best in your field." I drawled, walking back and forth across the first line of mercenaries. During the first world war, for demonstrations like these, I'd often stood upon an elevated platform due to the unfortunate difference in height between myself and 203rd. It was no longer so much a problem now, in this new form, and I was excited to make use of it. "Now, considering that Mr. Galliasta is a civilian and not a mage, there are doubtlessly areas of expertise wherein he would require the opinion of an adviser well informed about such things. That is why I am here, do you all understand?"

Twenty four voices rang out their affirmatives, and I couldn't help but feel a trill of nostalgia at that. It had been a long, long, time since I'd been out in the field and actively commanding OZEV's forces, and while these people certainly weren't the 203rd, it was still pleasant listening. I also couldn't help but notice a few of them seemingly irritated at my choice of words, which I didn't mind at all.

"Circumstances have changed since Mr. Galliasta's arrival to Fuyuki." I explained. There were no convenient military fatigues among the clothing I'd been given, and I certainly wasn't going to walk as a Servant among them, so I'd settled for a civilian get up from Galliasta's concubines. Some office lady clothing in their possession which looked suitably professional on me. "While the majority of your co-workers will likely continue on in their current assignments, there are new operational objectives that we believe you will all be able to assist in the coming weeks. I am here to determine whether you would be suitable for such an operation. You will, of course, get a corresponding pay bump of up to seventy five to two hundred percent, depending on the tasks given to you, up until the culmination of the operation."

I noted their backs straightening, their attention turning sharper, and I nodded internally to myself. If one thing could be counted on, it was that money truly was the great motivator. I noted a hand raised up at my words, a woman with with long dark hair and sharp features. I nodded towards her.

"What would these operations entail, ma'am." she asked, the barest hint of an accent I couldn't place, and I smiled at her pro-activity. Some in the audience shuffled their feet at that.

"Well, in regards to that, I'm afraid I can only disclose that once I've validated your entire group." I replied, my voice and demeanor the consistency of cotton candy. "Once I've determined who among your group would be eligible for these operations, you will then be informed as quickly as possible."

In truth, I planned only to include two thirds of their current group into the war, so about sixteen people. Of course they could impress me and I'd add a bit more than that, but Galliasta had informed me that the more people I put into the war the more difficult it would be to scrub their memory afterwards should they survive. I didn't quite agree with that, the more competent people we had on tap the better, but didn't feel the need to stick my neck out for it. We could consider the remainder as a back up in any case.

The woman nodded at me, seemingly accepting my words, though not all were the same Another man spoke out, and I noted that his attire wouldn't have passed muster in an OZEV affiliated state, never mind Germania itself. "Alright, that's fair, that's fair. Who are you though? Why exactly is the Boss having you work us huh?"

I kept my face impassive, looking him over as I did. I'd been told that contrary to most other groups, Tresillo did not have a hierarchical structure, choosing instead to employ a flatter structure that emphasized flexibility and greater involvement of its employees. Speaking as a firm believer of capitalism, I appreciated it for its merits, but recognized that such a system would breed mavericks on the ground floor. This man was undoubtedly one of them.

Even with my enhanced height, the man was a giant, towering over everyone else in attendance. Undoubtedly he was used to getting his way by use of physical displays and aggression, so I needed to put him in his place now or suffer his insubordination for the rest of the war. I moved towards him, my body levitating until I was staring him straight in the eyes, my body hovering a feet or two from the grand. The other mercenaries gaped, expressions which I ignored for now, as I gave the big man a sweet smile. The man's face was not quite as certain as before, his eyes glancing towards my body, searching for a computation sphere that didn't exist. I had reviewed their files earlier, and vaguely recalled the man's face.

"My apologies, Captain Hernandez." I nod towards him. "I recognize that this is all still rather short notice, and I completely understand any issues you might have in answering to me even in the short term. Regardless, I'm here merely as an advisory position on behalf of Mr. Galliasta, nothing more."

Speaking as a military veteran, I understood the Captain's unease. There'd been ample historical precedence for clumsy civilian interference in military affairs ultimately resulting in a lost war. I needed to make my authority with this group clear, but the last thing I wanted to do was have them resent me for it.

"As for my name however, if you insist on needing to know it, you may call me Marietta Sioux."

* * *

**I**

* * *

To say that computation orb technology had made significant progress since the second world war would be like saying that the People's Car was the height of exceptional taste and class. The development of the microchip and inevitable rise of computing had consequently allowed for the development of greater and more efficient computation orbs. No longer were they such mechanisms the territory of steampunk magitech fantasies, but now bore the distinctive sleek design of modernity. At my death, Germania in particular, and OZEV as a whole, were on the bleeding edge of the technology. Hispania had only joined in the past few decades, its government had been playing hardball with me so as to gain greater benefits, yet despite that they'd embraced our military technology with an almost disturbing fervor.

So I suppose that considering their entire group was based in Hispania, the Tresillo computation orbs weren't bad at all. They were still a private company, so it's not like they had access to our hardware, but judging by their gear they seemed to have had some contacts in the black market. A decade or two out of date sure, but the Type-105 was a solid dual core design. It was the first design to be fairly nondescript as well, all the better to ensure that our men could walk the streets armed and protected without announcing to the world that they were walking artillery pieces.

All things considered though, it wasn't enough. Just because they had old OZEV gear and their country was part of my dominion didn't mean that they were anything like the 203rd.

A man moved straight at me, pistol blazing, his outline glowing a deep blue as he took advantage of his magically charged momentum to attempt a wild tackle. What advantage he had in power and speed was mitigated by a clumsiness brought about by chronic over reliance on his device, the bullets wheezing past me as his run turned his aim into crap. I sidestepped his maneuver, slowing down just enough to operate within the realm of human ability, and allowed him to pass me by. My fist rushed through the air at his passage, impacting the small of his back with enough force to break through his protective barrier. He floundered at that, recognizing the sudden loss of his protection but unable to cease his momentum in time as he crashed onto the opposite wall with a sickening crunch. He did not move afterwards and so I picked up his pistol, ejected the magazine and slotted in a new one courtesy of his own supply.

I paid him no mind after that, turning around and looking out into my surroundings, eyes in search of the others. We were in one of the many office floors of the Tower, one that I'd taken over so as to coordinate this exercise. Galliasta had not prepared any particular environment for what I had in mind, and I wasn't about to bring two dozen heavily armed mercenaries out into the world in search of proper training grounds, so I had to make do with what I had. I'd enforced and altered the floor's structural integrity, otherwise our exercise would not only have destroyed the area in the first round, it would have also given the civilian populace in the floors below the impression that a terrorist attack was in progress. I looked out into the seemingly empty floor, before adjusting the volume of my voice and speaking aloud.

"I'm not particularly well versed with history, but I was under the impression that Hispanians once shared global hegemony with the Albish. If you're all representative of that effort, then I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed at the Albish for taking so long to humble you all, or embarrassed for your ancestors at how pitiful their people had become."

My words echoed across the floor to no response. I'd wanted to test their mettle, but that didn't mean I could just have their entire group fight me all at once. In the first place, this was meant to be a way to determine both their individual capabilities as well as their overall performance. If I'd thrown their entire group at me all at once, all I would have learned is how well they'd be able to operate in coordinating against a single individual in familiar parameters. I also had no illusions about being able to track the approximate skills of twenty four mages in the middle of a firefight. As such, I divided them into four groups of six and had each group come after me with the best they got. This was the third group now.

I left the man behind as I moved deeper into the office space. For the most part, I'd wanted a genuine exercise environment, but I also didn't want to blow up some poor salary man's belongings for no other reason beyond authenticity. I had ordered the mercenaries to extract such personal belongings and keep them elsewhere, an act I had hoped would also have irritated them enough to make mistakes in their performance. With the exception of the first group, the rest seemed to be too composed for that to have worked. Or perhaps they learnt from the mistakes of the first.

I was unwilling to wear civilian clothes into the exercise, so I'd borrowed one of their uniforms. It was comfortable enough, and I noted with some appreciation that the uniform was derived from OZEV gear, though perhaps somewhat outdated in contrast to more modern standards. It was actually somewhat nostalgic, and I had foregone the tactical helm in favor of the freedom of movement the lack of a helmet provided. I was perfectly willing to fight them all, I wasn't willing to do so while sweating like a pig.

From the corner of my eye I noted a nearby closet exploding as a woman rushed out of the confined space, executing a rather well done roll to a nearby wall. She braced herself against her new environment, leveraging an assault rifle of Germanian make, and began to open fire on my position. I noted that her suppressive fire was wild and belligerent, less concerned with hitting me as it was posing as a distraction. Odds were good that she was meant to be the bait.

By that point I was already moving, a dagger in my hand as I considered my approach. Realistically speaking, I wouldn't be able to maintain my human facade if I take an entire magazine to the face with little repercussion, and so I duck and weaved through the woman's firing pattern, her bullets chewing the scenery around me. The outline of my blade turning a cerulean hue as I manifest more of my ability into the blade.

It wasn't a manifested blade, even with the impression of magical strength I gave them earlier some things were simply beyond what a mage could feasibly accomplish. Instead, the blade was something I borrowed from a previous applicant. At the very beginning of our exercise, I'd told them all that they were welcome to try their honest best to kill me, though it had taken the first team rushing into my melee range to dispel any doubts as to my ability. Every team after that seemed to have taken my words to heart.

I entered the woman's guard, her masked tactical helmet obscuring any facial expression she might have had. Nonetheless she responded admirably to my rush, emptying her magazine in a tight pattern that left it difficult to dodge as she zoomed away via the power of her computation orb. The bullets pinged against my shield, burning and vaporizing in an instant, fragments shattering all around me as the rounds exploded on impact. Close proximity to the typical paraphernalia common in an office space meant that the resulting explosions obscured my view of her much as it did the same for her. Nonetheless I felt it didn't matter much, her assault rifle's incessant barking clued me in to her location easily enough.

Sidestepping to a nearby desk, I performed a tight spin, transmitting my momentum into kinetic energy. I threw the knife in my hand, the weapon flying straight and true at the direction of my opponent. Her suppressive fire ceased for a moment, and I used the distraction to vault over the now thoroughly ruined desk. The next few moments were a blur, and I imagined the girl's grunt as my knee impacted her chin was as much from surprise as it was from the pain.

I looked down at her, a frown no doubt visible on my face, though I didn't particularly care at what I was expressing. The rigors of civilian life had not completely wiped out the hard earned battle instincts of my youth, but this was something else. Even accounting for my increased physicality and capability, I shouldn't be able to predict my opponents's movement this thoroughly. I was already more comfortable with the battlefield than most, but either the quality of today's youth was truly depressing, or it had been enhanced somehow by my ascension into a Heroic Spirit.

The body I'd been given doubtlessly had something to do with it. I had assumed the only change was the….frankly tasteless adjustment to my clothing and body, but that wasn't the entirety of it. I was stronger and faster than before, my awareness of the battlefield having expanded somehow, and even accounting for the advances in computation orb efficiency and power the mercenaries were still far too slow. I'd expected something like this of course, but I was merely a Caster in this war, a role more suited to the back line of a conflict. I could only imagine how much worse their performance would be if I was one of the knight classes.

Nonetheless, I wasn't expecting them to perform some fool maneuver against this war's Saber. Burning human capital in such a way was clumsy and unseemly, but the exercise was also meant as a way for them to understand exactly what they were getting into. I had means and methods to ameliorate their difficulties, but I wanted to see what they could do as they were so I'd be more informed as to what decision to make. At the very least, they should be competent in handling enemy Masters, within reason anyway. Magi seemed to rely significantly on prior preparation, and I imagined that what preparations they would have would be more suited to fighting against Servants and Masters, not a professional outfit like the Tresillo.

My reverie was interrupted as something at the back of my mind whispered that something was wrong. Looking up, I spotted the remaining members of this group aiming straight for me. They were clustered in one of the hallways, and I noted that the rifles they held all seemed to have a grenade launcher attachment at the bottom. At the same moment I noticed this, they opened fire.

In the interests of accuracy, the weapons they carried were all armed with live ammunition. With the advancement of computation orb technology, conventional infantry grade munitions were insufficient to actually pierce through a mage's shield. As such, I'd considered their use in this exercise acceptable, even if there'd been some bellyaching from the mercenaries themselves. I trusted that they were all competent enough not to get themselves killed in such a simple exercise.

However, keeping in mind that they believed me to be a simple mage, the fact that they escalated to high grade explosives in an effort to shut me down was rather flattering. There was a world of difference between being able to resist stray weapons fire and surviving multiple grenades to the face, and in a different context I would have appreciated the implied respect. On the other hand, I was painfully aware of the unconscious woman behind me. Dodging the munitions would mean the girl behind me would be injured or worse as she was simply too unconscious to be maintaining a shield. Even if she'd been completely conscious, I doubted that a modern day mage had shields of a sufficient strength to survive such a barrage.

I unholstered my pistol and took aim. Limiting myself to human parameters would help no one in this case, and I took a deep breath as more power slipped into my form. My sidearm barked, the grenades bursting in mid-air as shattered metal peppered the surrounding area. I paused just long enough to ensure any stray shrapnel would hit me instead of the unconscious girl behind me, before I rushed forward, the steel rain heralding my passage as I leapt into the fray.

There were four targets, the remainder of Team Three, and I trusted that they were professional enough not to collapse at the first sign of their plan going sideways. To my pleasure, I was right, and they were already switching to automatic fire on their rifles as I exited the cloud. Their shields thrummed angrily, the earlier shrapnel having showered their fire team just as it did me. My foot connected with one of the mercs, shield briefly turning into a crimson red before it shattered. The man staggered back, hands in the air as he dropped his weapon and I shooed him away with one hand as I turned to his companions.

I dropped to the ground, my back landing centimetres off the hard concrete as my magic left me afloat and the rough area of the corridor where my chest would have been was filled with lead. A twitch of my will and I was flying towards the other three, my foot impacting one of the girls, who subsequently fell on me. I put her in a choke hold with one hand, using her as a temporary human shield as I emptied my magazine into one of the other men. My pistol rang dry as the man's shield died, and the girl on top of me staying stock still as she recognized that she too was essentially out. I patted her on the head as I stood up, glancing towards the last member of their team. I noted that the last girl gamely held a knife in each hand, the blades bristling with magical energy, seemingly intent on fighting me in a melee.

Far be it from me to demean the girl's honor, I decided to treat her seriously. I threw the now empty sidearm at her, my enhanced strength turning the weapon into something more similar to rogue shrapnel than an actual sidearm. To her credit, the girl managed to dodge the impromptu weapon with some grace, rolling into a ready stance. By that point though, I'd picked up her friend's riffle and emptied the magazine into her until her shield broke. I ended the exam shortly thereafter.

* * *

**II**

* * *

From introduction to the final interview, it took about two days to get through the entire group, though I'd say that by that point I had a fair estimate on their overall abilities. I noted that with each round that passed the teams became more and more willing to resort to extreme methods, the fourth group had actually planned a control detonation to bury me in the rubble of the floor. I actually appreciated the thoroughness with which they'd planned that one, and I'd given their entire group the green light for participation in the war. I doubt that half measures were sufficient for the kind of firepower we were up against.

Still, there were some things I needed to clear up with a few, which was why I was sitting down and talking to the girl in front of me.

She'd been part of the third team and according to the after report the one who'd taken control of the group after I'd ambushed their squad leader at the beginning of the exercise. With some amusement, I realized that the sharp eyed girl was also the one who'd pulled out daggers against me, so I suppose I should give her points for guts as well. Assuming there were any points left over after I'd subtracted it from her sheer stupidity, it had been by her order that her team unload the grenades with a teammate unconscious nearby.

"I must say, I'm rather impressed." I drawled. "Typically, I'd say that it was the enemy's job to kill your teammates, but as it turns out you're rather ambitious aren't you? One can only imagine that if you ever get captured by the opposition, you could just point to the corpses of your dead friends and claim you were a saboteur working deep undercover all along."

We were speaking in private as I had with each of the men and women of her company for the past two days. I had no intention of humiliating anyone, odds were that with military camaraderie being what it was that it would simply alienate me against them. Despite that however, some things needed to be said. The first team had the grilling of a lifetime for their inability to treat me seriously.

To her credit, she seemed somewhat morose at the reminder of her stupidity, and shook her head in response. "No ma'am, that wasn't my intent."

I paused at that, considering the girl seated in front of me. "Oh? I must have been misinformed then, I wasn't aware that one's uniform was capable of resisting the combined fire of four W-023 Grenade Modules. I must admit, if that was the case, your group really should be submitting a patent for your revolutionary advance in warfare. I'm sure OZEV would be more than happy to take you up on the design."

The girl blushed in embarrassment at that, which I considered a victory, and stuttered as she spoke. "T-that's not what I meant, ma'am. I was merely running with a hypothesis, judging from the previous exercises-"

"Oh? What hypothesis?"

She took a deep breath, as though summoning what strength of will she still possessed, before looking me in the eye. "Judging from the previous exercises, the skill with which you disabled my comrades and your performance when dealing with armed mages while operating unarmed up until that point? I and the others had concurred that you weren't operating at your full potential, that you were toying with us, so I figured that we had to take advantage of that while you were still treating us with the kids gloves."

I blinked at that, folding my arms and glared at her. The effect was immediate, the mercenary freezing in fear and averting her gaze. "Lieutenant Isabel Laverne. Your definition of 'taking advantage' involved the possible death of your teammate with the possible best case scenario of….embarrassing me?"

Laverne's fearful expression turned pink as she looked away. "Morrison wasn't supposed to die to get you." she muttered. "She was supposed to get out of the way as soon as we were in position, she was just too unconscious to do that."

"Ah, I see." I nodded in understanding. "So my point remains then, you're an idiot."

There was a spark of resistance there, of irritation, that swiftly crumpled underneath my gaze. She sighed. "Yes ma'am. I was an idiot. I wanted to prove myself and get my team the opportunity to work for you. Some of us make terrible financial decisions, Morrison's in deep with the mob for his gambling debts and Bernard probably can't take three steps without falling in love with a local. Working for you is gonna be miles better than working for the rich prick that signs our paychecks."

I give her an amused look. "Besides the gross disrespect you're showing in regards to our employer, I feel like I might have been misunderstood at some point. We both work under Mr. Galliasta, working for me is exactly the same as working for him."

"God I hope not." she sighed, before looking back to me. "I don't buy that though. You've got better gear, better professionalism, better training than any of us, the kind of skill money just can't buy. That got real clear when you killed Bernard's shields with a fucking kick, seriously who the hell does that? The leading bet with the boys right now is that you're OZEV black ops, and you're certainly not some civilian adviser. Not unless the advice you give is in kicking ass anyway."

I rolled my eyes. Decades later and people still believe this garbage. "There's no such thing as OZEV black ops. It's an urban myth dating back to the great depression, Germania doesn't have a squad of trained killers ready to disappear anyone at a moment's notice. Honestly, it's all communist propaganda."

Laverne scoffed. "If you say so. Anyway, if you're gonna kick me out of whatever it is you have going on, then that's fine. I fucked up, I recognize that, but please don't judge my team for my own dumb ass decisions, they deserve better."

A silence fell between us as I considered the girl in front of me. For all her tough talk she seemed extremely nervous, pale even, at the prospect of this opportunity falling out of her grasp. It seemed clear that she wasn't as tough as she wanted to be seen as, and I couldn't help but notice that she looked young. Too young. Early twenties maybe, and I couldn't imagine what kind of demented war freak of a family would allow their daughter to go out in the world to work as a merc. Then again, Hispania had only joined OZEV a few decades ago, and perhaps the culture there was just different.

I felt an itch at the back of my mind, a familiar presence making itself known, and I mentally checked out of the current conversation.

'Yes, Master?'

'Good afternoon, Caster. Are you still busy playing with Hernandez's men? If you're talking to him right now tell him he still owes me a drink."

I suppressed a flash of irritation and centered myself, my mental tone smooth and clear. 'Unfortunately not, Master. I'm just about finished speaking with them though, I believe we'll have a team suited for our needs soon enough. Is there something I should know?'

'Something like that, several things have come up. I was planning on having a conversation with Bazett and her Lancer by now, but she's been off the grid for a while now. She's probably off pursuing her own interests, which makes me nervous. You're sure she was last seen at the temple?'

I gave a mental nod at that. It was unfortunate that the duo had destroyed my familiar, but it did give me an interesting view of my fellow Heroic Spirit. The Lancer of this war seemed like an imposing man, and if nothing else his skill with the weapon was outstanding. Hitting a handkerchief in the middle of the night as it ran about in a forest with a spear couldn't possibly be easy. Their subsequent disappearance was considerably more concerning though, as were the reports coming out that temple monks had been murdered.

'Hmm, very well. In any case, I have something of an opportunity. My contacts in the Magus Association have informed me that the Einzberns are landing in Fuyuki International within the next few hours.'

My ears perked up at that. 'Are you thinking about an assassination?'

'No, no. It wouldn't be very proper, killing the Einzbern princess mid transit and I doubt we'd succeed in any case. I'm aware that the Einzberns have several properties out and about in the city, as well as property outside of it deeper in the forest that's protected by a fairly fearsome bounded field. Considering how invested that family is into this war, the odds of them having more properties than what is publicly known is fairly certain. I want you over at Fuyuki International, see if you can spy on them, figure out where they're headed to once they've landed. The odds are good they'll just go to their forest property, but if they don't then we'll need to know as soon as possible.'

That seemed logical enough, though I had a few obvious concerns about that. 'Considering that the Einzberns are veterans in this kind of conflict, I suspect they'll know the moment I make contact in the airport-'

'Then send familiars or whatever else you can do, I don't care.' Galliasta huffs back at me. 'Information is key to winning this war, Caster. I refuse to let tired old men and their pawns beat me, you have access to all my resources. Use them.'

With that, the mental connection snapped close. I sighed as I put a hand to my brow. While his plan did make sense, I couldn't help but feel that poking the Einzberns this early in the war for fairly minimal gain wasn't exactly the best choice in the world. Still, he was right in a way, this was an opportunity. Even if I couldn't get anything out of the Einzberns, there could be a solid chance that the other participants might have eyes on the airport as well. That, if nothing else, meant that I had to have eyes of my own on the field.

I turned towards the lieutenant, who it seems had worked herself up to quite the state in my mental absence, and gave her a smile. My expression did not seem to help her nerves.

"Well then, Lieutenant Laverne. I do think I have a job for you."


	7. 1.5

**1.5**

Given that we were talking potentially hostile action against an enemy Master, I really would have preferred more time to get things in order. It wasn't as though I could simply pack up and send myself and the entire mercenary company to intercept the plane after all. Perhaps with some finessing I could do it, but I was fairly certain it couldn't be done quietly. I had to consider the fallout you see, as any halfway competent Master wouldn't fail to notice the convoy of nondescript vans and heavily armed personnel flowing out of the Tower. They would make arrangements and preparations, and we would be showing our hand too early for too little gain. The Einzberns weren't the only players on the field after all, and if I'd succeeded in eliminating them then it would certainly put a target sign on my back for the remainder of the war.

I could be reckless, I suppose. My abilities were such that I was reasonably certain I could move past the city to some nondescript patch of ocean on the path of the Einzbern plane and shoot it down. A conventional assassination attempt would have to account for the pilot's skill in dodging a projectile and travel time, but that was with the assumption of using some missile to carry it out. My powers made such a concern irrelevant.

However, that was presupposing that the Einzbern master would not have foreseen an attack coming in some way. Honestly speaking, this ritual had been going on for more than two hundred years now. I imagine that at some point, someone must have thought of assassination the opposition on their way to the battlefield. Perhaps they had, but the records were too incomplete to gather a clear picture of the first three wars. Whether such a hypothetical act would have succeeded or not was lost to history now, and I certainly wasn't about to jump off a cliff without being mindful of the rocks below.

Then there were the Matous and Tohsakas. Perhaps Galliasta had been correct in saying that of the families, those two would be somewhat weaker, but that didn't at all disqualify them from being a threat. Should they combine forces in mutual defense against the one that had killed their colleague, then it would be an untenable situation. If we pillaged the Einzbern resources, used their magic against their colleagues, that might stand a better chance of succeeding. However I had no idea the first step to carrying that out, and so odds were I'd simply suffer for trying.

This was all hypothetical anyway, Galliasta had explicitly pointed out that he wanted information, not an assassination attempt. Be that as it may, it behooved me to figure out any and all potential strategies to carrying the operation out. Plans rarely survived first contact with the enemy, and I refused to leave anything in the hands of fate. I was well aware that bastard had a habit of playing with a rigged deck.

A soft breeze unsettled my hair, forcing my gaze over to the horizon. It was nearly evening now, the dying sun casting an orange glaze over everything it touched. The shadows were longer now, the artificial lights of streetlamps and internal lighting slowly beating nature back. My eyes followed the light, scanning the empty landscape until it vanished against a fortress of glass and concrete.

Fuyuki International was a delightfully modern place. Apparently, over the course of the past decade or so, investments had poured into the city infrastructure since the end of the last war. I presume that the corporations involved were puppets of the Three Families; used and manipulated to reconstruct the city after their little ritual went awry. Regardless, the presence of the airport and the docks were the primary instigators of commercial wealth and modernity that flowed into the otherwise sleepy city. As such, they were surprisingly modern in comparison to the more contemporary nature of Fuyuki.

Assuming they were running on international standards, not necessarily a given due to magi interference, the airport should be rigged head to toe with state of the art technology dedicated to sensing magic. Well, strictly speaking, it's dedicated to sensing the magical discharge of mages; I had no idea whether there was a significant difference between the branches of magic that magi and mages used.

I'd certainly never recalled such a report being made in my lifetime, though the reasons for that were so numerous I wouldn't even know where to begin to tackle that. It could be that there existed some fatal flaw in their design that allowed magi to operate underground, though that in turn suggested an innate difference between the branches of magic that could be exploited in some way. I couldn't put much stock in that though, it was just as equally valid that the magi had infiltrated those institutions to such a degree that they could scrub it for whatever results they deemed fit, horribly irritating as it sounded.

As such, using magic around the airport was a dicey proposition, without more data we couldn't just assume that things would favor us by default. I'd asked Galliasta about it, but I'd been given the psychic equivalent of a blank stare. Apparently, he hadn't even known that airports had such devices. Which was helpful in a sense, if Galliasta hadn't even noticed anything then odds were the sensors never bothered him sufficiently, but did absolutely nothing about my predicament with the mercenaries.

Operating from the assumption that magi were halfway competent, they would have fixed the sensors such that their own use of magic wouldn't be detected. The same could not be said of my mercenaries, I was fairly certain that if I used the Tresillo as active combatants so close to an international airport every allegations of terrorism would be the least of my worries. As such, I couldn't simply have them sit in the airport lobby twiddling their thumbs on the lookout for any European with silver hair.

As such, I'd done some preliminary investigation on the surrounding area looking for certain opportunities. There were three roads allowing for entrance in and out of the airport; one road ultimately leading into a highway bound for the neighboring city and two that would eventually lead towards Fuyuki itself. What with the Einzbern Master needing to enter the city for the war, that meant the road out of town was unlikely to be used, meaning focus on the first two was prioritized. I would send the Tresillo there, the sixteen that had passed muster, in any case.

It was interesting, operating at this level again. It had been decades since I was properly on the front lines, and even if it I'd left it very much behind me, that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate it. There was more danger certainly, in that you had to trust your superiors to know what they were doing as well as being the one most exposed to the immediate threat. Despite that things were simpler; one simply carried out their job to the best of their abilities and gained the approval of their superiors. To be in command was to be safe from the immediate dangers of combat and yet be constantly concerned about the consequences of your own actions; it was upon your shoulders the fate of the war would settle on after all.

Of course, I had the misfortune of inheriting the worst of both worlds. I was neither safe from combat nor secure in my position, constantly in danger and fearful of the consequences if I screwed up. Death was no longer the ultimate failure here, not really.

I sighed. How stressful.

"Is there something wrong, ma'am?" Laverne speaks beside me, a note of fear in her voice. I shake my head.

"No, not at all. Merely thinking."

Her weapon hung before me, disassembled and frozen as though every individual piece had spontaneously exploded. Components hung frozen in time, my cerulean tendrils of magic seeping into them as the lieutenant watched nervously. Beside her is the rest of her team, doing their best not to look nervous as their own weapons and gear experienced a similar phenomenon. They seemed confused much as their colleagues did when I'd done much the same to their weapons, but I didn't explain myself further.

I was aware that the abilities and powers bestowed upon me did not necessarily have to be accurate to my own abilities. It certainly played a part, but just as important was the impact one had upon Humanity's impression on me. The world believed they know who Tanya von Degurechaff was; a warrior without peer, the devil made manifest. My own identity was ridiculously easy to determine, and even with my average abilities boosted by Humanity's belief, my own strength would doubtlessly be pathetic compared to the legends I would be required to fight against.

However, my summoning had made things particularly difficult in that regard. I was summoned as a Caster, and as such I was not imbued with the strength I would have had as an Archer or Rider. Other elements of my legend were brought to the forefront, which muddied the waters in what I was capable of.

An interesting example. Strictly speaking, I was never a woman of science. I had never invented anything or sunk my feet into the trenches of a laboratory to bring my ideas to life. My understanding of the fundamentals of physics, mathematics, chemistry and the like were doubtlessly pathetic compared to the modern visionaries of my time. If anything, Germanian advancements were very thoroughly executed by the scientists I had employed. I had given them directives, insight and knowledge stolen from the modern age, walking them through paths well traveled that this world had yet to discover. My people may have considered me to be something else, but my knowledge did not come from my own genius, but craven thievery.

Yet that was not what the world remembered. It did not matter that the first assault rifle was invented by other hands, it was heralded as 'Mama Tanya's' weapon through and through because I had insisted on a basic foundation of warfare that no one had noticed yet. It did not matter that it was Germania's intellect and scientific community that constructed the atom bomb in this reality, the public merely saw it as the Chancellor's Secret Weapon and that was that. I was heralded as a visionary, and it was this that the Holy Grail drew upon when fashioning me in this form.

I could not create such items of course, even the vaunted neutrality of the Church would pale at a Caster constructing an atomic bomb in a populated city. More to the fact, I had this impression that my Item Creation wasn't that high, all things considered. Less of an out and out method to create something from thin air and more of an ability to change and enchant items already existing. That affinity was heightened significantly when dealing with machines of war, another blasted aspect of my legend.

I resented it. I was no stranger to feeling like a fraud, to masquerade as someone I was not, but this was beyond even that. I was a firm believer of the tenets of capitalism after all, and a part of those tenets would be that one be rewarded appropriately to their talents. Lazy parasites that latch on to the coats of others to assure their place in the sun was less than irritating, it was actively detrimental to society as a whole. I was not the inventor of Germania's weapons of war, at most I was a glorified manager like General Ugar had been to our nuclear program. The honor and acclaim should go to men like Leo Spitz, Eugene Wigner or Werner Wecklein, the men who actually deserved the praise, instead of their work being subsumed into the monstrosity that was my legend.

As such, in death, Being X had inflicted upon me another wound. It had turned me into a parasite, draining the good work of others and forcing me to carry it as my own, even after death. The most galling thing is that if I could I'd simply ignore this aspect of myself, carry out this war without such stolen powers. Such thinking was foolish sentimentality however; I was not so stupid as to not leverage my resources against the great legends of history. As such, I was forced to use everything in my disposal, to use the poisoned gifts Being X had granted me to wage war for an ostensibly Holy Grail. I would do my best of course, honor the men and women who had put in the effort to give me such abilities, but it was supremely frustrating to have to do it in the first place.

The weapons had stopped glowing some time ago, the armaments reassembling themselves like a puzzle clicking into place as they gently fell into the hands of the Tresillo. In my ear I still heard the status reports of the other teams, checking and double checking that everything was acceptable on their end. Their chatter was almost familiar, soothing in a way I couldn't explain, and it helped with the task in my hand.

There were four slim pieces of titanium and glass before me, each not too visually different from a modern day hard drive. There were no gears involved here, no clockwork design and other silly aesthetic nonsense of their designs in the mid-twentieth century. Instead there was the gleam of reinforced glass, the twinkling of lights as internal microchips hummed quietly, a strange chill that permeated through the casing into my hands. I had thought that their more modern appearance and the dilution of my influence in their creation would have meant some degree of lesser influence over them, but that didn't seem to be the case.

Despite my foul mood, I couldn't help but draw some amusement from the situation. 'The Magic of the Spheres' indeed, that more than anything told me how outdated Galliasta's views on mages were, though charitably speaking that may simply be the name the Magi had stuck upon this particular branch of magic. Computation Orbs, despite the name, hadn't actually been in the shape of orbs for quite some time now. If I recalled correctly, a hexagonal shape was the most space efficient structure wasn't it? I recalled making that proposal late into life anyway, and while I couldn't exactly recall where that proposal went, these more outdated models would do nicely.

Finally, the task was done, and the cerulean glow over the mechanisms dimmed. I handed out the devices one by one to Laverne's team, who took them back with a sigh of relief. It had taken some convincing to get the mercenaries to hand over their devices like so, but the advantage of being their superior, as well as the promising monetary reparations if I'd somehow broken the damn things, was ultimately sufficient.

"Lieutenant?" I asked, and Laverne seemed to jerk for a moment at the mention of her, standing just a bit straighter as a result. Perhaps I'd been too hard on her earlier with my talk with her? I'd wanted her chastised, not humiliated. I adjusted my tone accordingly, being more soft and gentle, which paradoxically seemed to concern her even more.

"I will position myself as discussed upon in our mission brief." I commented, briefly recalling the nice map that the Tresillo had. "Grid seventeen dash five. You have everything in hand here?"

"Yes ma'am. We will!"

I frowned internally at that, noting the stiff postures and vaguely aloof demeanor on her team's face. It wasn't so much that I was expecting them to like me after I'd run them through the proverbial thresher, but they seemed different from even our first meeting. Something had happened to their assessment of me, though I had no idea what it was.

The HR manager in me wanted to determine what it could possibly be, but I really had no time. I'd have to just leave it for later and hope it was just my imagination.

* * *

**I**

* * *

In consideration with the plan, and with odds being what they were, the Einzbern Master was likely to have her Servant walking with them.

Since I was a Caster, that meant that unless the prideful yet humiliated Einzberns had decided to humble themselves in taking a practical class like Assassin, odds were that their servant would be some kind of combat capable creature in some way I was incapable of fighting head to head. Generally speaking, Servants were more than capable of sensing each other out, though irritatingly the extent and range of that ability were affected by a Hero's native skill and class. On top of that, while most Masters wouldn't have the capability of sensing a Servant from afar, it was almost guaranteed that if anyone would have that capability, it would be one of the creators of this damned war.

As such, if I were anywhere near the Einzbern pair odds were that I'd be running for my life. I had no interest in finding myself face to face with a Saber out for my blood, and so I sought a different a strategy. The fact that it was a comfortable one didn't hurt either.

I sighed as I leaned back into my cushioned seat, the latte in my hand warm and inviting, the drink imbuing a homely warmth deep into my soul. Servants didn't need to eat of course, but I wasn't some humblebug that judged such needs beneath me. Being forced to wait on my sponsor's behalf as he busied himself with some deranged experiment while we needed to talk of strategy was one thing, abandoning food altogether was something else entirely. At the very worst of the war I would have killed a dozen men for a good ramen bowl instead of the crap rations we'd been given. Now, coffee wasn't quite a ramen bowl, and the local cafe wasn't exactly some war torn battlefield, but the principle of the matter remained.

The cafe was a pleasant, homely, little thing. It was positioned in the outbound road from Fuyuki, doubtlessly intended to capitalize on the constant stream of people coming to and fro the airport. The staff seemed competent, understanding my needs and arriving in a prompt, orderly, fashion that I couldn't help but approve off. They knew enough to leave me well enough alone as well, another point in their favor. In addition to that, their goods wasn't some mass produced tasteless crap either, I'd been slowly working my way down on a slice of cheesecake for ten minutes now. It was a struggle against the inevitable really, in enjoying the fruits of the cafe's service while also ensuring never having to actually finish the damn thing.

Now to be clear, I wasn't abandoning my responsibilities. As I'd previously outlined, for me to be an active participant of the reconnaissance teams would have been detrimental to the operation's success as a whole. Without a hard number on what range it would take for another servant to identify me, as well as my own weakness in melee combat courtesy of my class, it was plainly unacceptable to act recklessly. That being the case, should the Tresillo run into any problems then the powers I imbued into their gear should keep them alive. I'd given them strict orders to disperse the moment it looked like they were being hunted by a Servant anyway, so I trusted that their professionalism would get them out of any mess they unintentionally stumble into.

Not that I wasn't doing anything at all though. Credit where credit was due, the owner of the cafe had selected an excellent location. While the entrance to the cafe was located on the road clustered with other such establishments, the outdoor veranda had an excellent, unimpeded, view of the airport itself. Of course there was significant distance between the cafe and the airport, but that hardly mattered. I could augment my vision well enough to see the expressions on the pilot's face in their cockpit as they landed, assuming the light angled just right and I had a singularly unimpeded view.

I squinted at my smartphone's clock, the phone bearing a pink, pastel, protective casing about two hundred meters away from my typical comfort zone. Apparently Galliasta, for lack of anything better to do, had set them upon me so as to engineer different outfits for me on a daily basis. Beyond the sheer and utter creepiness of that fact, the concubines had taken to their new task with aplomb. In fact, I was starting suspect that they had begun to see me as some sort of pet project at this point. A doll that they could pretty up with the vast, vast, array of clothing and fashionable accessories in their possession. Organizing the Tresillo to leave hadn't been an instant thing, they needed some time to prepare, and in that intervening time they'd dragged me off into their perfumed hell. It had resulted in my current form, some remarkably modern, pastel, thing with boots, a loose shirt, thigh highs and short shorts.

Short. Shorts. How repugnant.

Nonetheless it did the job in allowing me to blend in. There'd been attention on me before, adolescent children asking me if I was lost in some hilarious, broken, English. Beyond that brief tangle with the travelers in this place, it had been mercifully quiet since. I suppose that anyone stopping by for a pit stop here wouldn't exactly be in the mood for a lively conversation with strangers.

I took a sip of my latte, eyes glancing towards the airport, as I used that brief moment to speak into the hidden receiver I'd taken from Tresillo's commanders. It was small enough to fit into my ear like some gadget from a spy flick series, except in this case it was completely and totally real. Modern technology truly was wonderful.

"This is Overwatch. Ten minutes till landfall, roll call and confirmation?"

 _"Sweeper One, all radials free."_ came the response from Laverne, her tone lacking the uncertainty from earlier.

 _"Lanza One, on standby."_ said Rodriguez, his voice cold and professional.

 _"Ghost One, reporting clear."_ came a quiet voice I didn't recognize, though I knew that he'd been involved in the first group's disastrous efforts against me.

" _Cutter One, situation nominal."_ said another, a girl whose name escaped me but whom I was aware had led the fourth group's efforts in blowing up the entire floor we'd been on.

I nodded in satisfaction. One could always appreciate professionals. "Acknowledged, standby."

All things considered, the force I'd brought to bear should be overkill, at least for a reconnaissance mission. Spread out along multiple likely pathways, the recon teams were all positioned to track the Einzbern Master well within the city limits. I'm sure that the mercenaries knew that as well, probably chalking up my order to bring their force in like this as the ill conceived order of Galliasta's squeeze of the week.

Let them think what they wanted, this was as good a time as any to see the Tresillo in action. Strictly speaking, they were still in an observation period, and while I'd run them through combat I wanted to see how they'd fare in an operational capacity and as a cohesive unit. As such, I couldn't micromanage them; I needed to secure the greatest fidelity out of this test as possible.

They were still awkward around me, which I couldn't do anything about just yet. My bond with the 203rd had been forged in conflict, both in the hellish training I'd put them through and the rigors of warfare. These men were already trained, their bonds settled and solidified, and the war I intended to wage with them a far cry from the trenches. Given the chance, I would have liked several weeks alone with them so as to forge them into a proper fighting force, but I just didn't have the time. I'd have to make do with what I have.

I received a string of confirmations before turning my eye towards the airport, my eyes set forward as I waited.

It didn't take long from there. Planes were always taking off and landing in any given area, but the nature of international flights meant that one had to plan around unexpected delays. Rather, that was the issue with commercial flights. If the Einzberns were exactly like they'd been described to me, I couldn't imagine their Master arriving in Fuyuki riding coach. Of course I was on the lookout for any plane arriving in the given time frame but, just as importantly, any private planes.

I blinked, my vision expanding as I gazed out into the sky. Few planes had particularly identifying markers to differentiate one from the other, at least externally. Given a choice, I would have preferred one of the Tresillo to be on point with me in search of the Einzbern plane, but that was tricky. The airport itself was constructed on a sort of artificial island, the highways clamping down on it as the only way in and out of the area. There were few enough locations to get a commanding view over the airport like this, and of those, fewer still that could be done by a mage. I'd worried that, with the lack of time and observers, we might actually miss the Einzbern arriving and leaving the airport.

Wouldn't that be embarrassing?

Fortunately, it seemed that I was simply overreacting. My vision sharpened onto a silvery private plane, making its way to a landing on the asphalt. By the time it had taxi'd into the runway and the occupants walking out, I managed to get a good look at a serious looking woman with silver hair and crimson eyes.

I considered that for a moment. It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? Flying into a war zone in a private plane held plenty of risks, namely that their odds of discovery would spike. Even with their distinguishing features, it wouldn't be that hard to blend into the crowd in a commercial airliner. To arrive as they did, it held a certain degree of arrogance.

My fingers felt twitchy, the need to grasp onto a weapon an uncomfortable urge. It would be an easy thing wouldn't it, to just shoot them down? Even at this range I was fairly certain I could pull it off, and what I might lack in precision I could more than make up for in sheer firepower. I held that impulse for a few seconds, watching the girl observe her surroundings with polite curiosity, before I sighed.

"Viscon. Viscon." I reported dutifully to the others. "Contact confirm, Female, silver haired, red eyes. Descriptors match, designate target as Phantom. Entering arrivals now."

I got a flurry of responses, which was all I needed to hear. Unless something spectacularly tricky was afoot, odds were the mercenaries would be able to track her from there. Assuming that everything went to plan, things should be fine.

I raised my hand, observing the pale flesh. So much like mine, but very much not. A construct of magical energy into the form of a human being, miraculous really. It felt, looked (for the most part) and functioned exactly like my old body, except even more so. More powerful, more energy efficient, I wondered whether such a design would ever be accomplished by modern magic.

Despite that, I knew what it was. For all this power, I was limited in design. I was slaved to Fuyuki and my Master, the mana streaming into me a means to maintain my incarnation. His orders were sacrosanct, within the authority of his command seals. While being tied to a madman wasn't my idea of good fun, I couldn't help but imagine what the other Servants had to deal with.

I sighed as I leaned back into my seat. I didn't like this malaise, this strange combination of high strung and relaxed. I knew better than to let my guard down after all, I knew what would happen if I did-

"So watcha drinking?"

I blinked at the unexpectedly cute voice, turning around and finding what appeared to be a clone of myself. Well clone was being a bit dramatic about it, but the similarities were definitely surprising. Blonde hair pulled up in a fashion similar to what I wore during the war, blue eyes staring at me with undisguised glee, even clothes similar to my time as Chancellor. By this point, I'd grown familiar with my doppelgangers, familiar, but not comfortable anyway. I was always vaguely embarrassed whenever I saw them, but oddly enough I didn't feel that as I observed the girl. The pit in my stomach seemed to deepen, and I tried to figure out the socially appropriate thing to say was.

"Oh wow!" I say, affecting a pleased tone. "Your outfit looks so good, you look exactly like the Argent!"

The girl giggled, a dainty hand to her lips, which did nothing to settle the strange unease at the pit of my stomach. "Thanks! I tried really hard at it, even if my family didn't really approve. Something about appropriateness, I think? Bleh."

Much to my consternation, my words seemed to have been taken as an excuse to converse, and she took up the seat opposite me, coincidentally blocking any further observation of the airport. Irritating, but not particularly debilitating. Her amused smile seemed to only grow once she sat down, and she took a deep sip from the milkshake in her hand.

"I mean, back when the trend started it was completely fine for people to dress up as her, but when she died it kinda petered out?" she shrugged. "So out in the west it's considered a bit gauche, but the Akinese don't really have that hangup huh? Probably a cultural thing, for this country the Chancellor was simply a savior, but to Germania she's basically the closest thing to a modern deity these days."

My lip twitched at that, my face an otherwise perfect camouflage to mask my grinding molars. Deity huh? Well, I couldn't help but agree in part about her estimation of the Akinese. They had, and apparently still were, taking my actions far in excess of what one would consider reasonable "Oh yeah? So you're a fan then?"

The girl scoffed, a contemptuous sound that failed in triggering any reaction but an instinctual 'cute' response. "N-no, not at all. I just have an appreciation of history is all, as galling as it may be to my family it's hard to call her anything but the greatest mage of the twentieth century after all. Not even her detractors can take that away from her."

Well now that was certainly overstating things. It was true that Germania had a modest advantage to other states due to their technology and pre-existing magical combat doctrine, but my rise to prominence had more to do with my environment than myself. I was certain that Being X had just dropped me in the Empire to maximize my suffering, if I'd been born in the Unified States or the Republic odds were I'd actually be able to live an ordinary life.

_"Sweeper Two, contact on Phantom. Exiting arrivals terminal now, bearing thirty degrees."_

I allowed nothing to show on my face as I listened to the stream of acknowledgements from the Tresillo. This was bad. Of course, nothing was happening, and this girl was doing nothing more but engaging me in conversation, but I couldn't be distracted by something like this in the middle of an operation.

My face was smooth like porcelain as I smiled at the girl before moving to stand, leaving my half eaten cheesecake and mostly gone latte behind. "Well that's certainly true. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"Where are you going?" she asked, all innocence and puppy dog stares. It almost physically hurt to look at as I gave her an apologetic smile.

"Unfortunately, there are a few things I need to take care off-"

_"Verified Sweeper two. Phantom has made contact with-"_

"-so I really need to go." I say, a bit of strain evident in my voice.

She quirked her head to the side, an affectation I would almost call cute if not for the bizarre similarity to my own face, and frowned. "Hmm. Well that doesn't make sense! It hasn't started yet, and if you're here drinking coffee and pretending to be human, then you probably aren't doing anything important right? At least, it seems like it anyway."

Despite myself I stopped, her words bringing a chill up my spine as the pit in my stomach dropped all the way to my toes. I studied her expression. The cuteness was there, as well as the innocence, but beneath it all-

The blonde's eyes widened, as though remembering something. "Oh right! Leysritt was supposed to be coming in by now. Honestly, I was expecting one of the other Masters to have done something by now, but it doesn't look like anything's happened yet. I wasn't completely sure about the plan, but it made sense and at least it means Leysritt can go out of the manor more often. That girl spends far too much time following me around, it's not healthy!"

A frown, before she looked down in thought. "Not that I want anything bad to happen to her of course, I love Leysritt! If someone so much as hurt a hair on her head I'd splatter their guts across the city and feed the remains to Berserker. Actually no, that doesn't sound right. Berserker doesn't eat people. I think."

I returned to my seat, my hand admirably steady as I took a sip of my latte. It didn't really do anything of course, my body wan't human, but it was comforting nonetheless. The enemy stared on, an excited look on her face that I returned with a stoic look.

"I thought the Einzbern Master was supposed to have silver hair and crimson eyes." I say ruefully. "In my time, a failure of such basic assumptions in the middle of an operation would be a death sentence. I don't suppose you'll be carrying out that sentence right now?"

Einzbern gave me an affronted look. "Now that's just rude. We're just relaxing right now, talking right? The war hasn't even started yet, and whatever familiars you have observing Leysritt hasn't tried to hurt her yet so I don't see any reason why we can't be civil. Also, your information's correct! Look here, a magic trick~"

With a teasing tone she brought her hands in front of her face, performing a pattern that I think she had intended to confuse or disorientate anyone watching as her other hand tried to tease out her contact lens. It did not go smoothly, as what actually occurred was something more similar to her just outright poking herself in the eye. A whimper of pain, a few jerks of the hand and a minute later she held the blue contact lens in her one hand. Her one eye was watering with pained tears though she gamely tried to hide it, but it seems that she really was telling the truth. Her eye was a disconcerting shade of crimson, an unnaturally bright shade that contrasted greatly with her, ironically artificial, sapphire one.

"T-the hair's silver too!" she crooned, flipping her hair in a grandiose gesture. "It's just dyed right now. I think I like it actually, it's a nice change."

"Right." I say, taking another sip. "Well I'll have to thank you for not trying to kill me at the moment Miss Einzbern. Rest assured, I had no violent plans in mind towards your companion, I was merely sent on a-"

"Booooriiing." she exclaimed, a mildly irritated expression on her face. "I'm not here to talk about the war silly! And don't just call me Miss Einzbern, that could apply to like a hundred people! I'm Ilya! Ilyasviel von Einzbern, and don't forget it!"

My mouth snapped shut at her interruption, but I continued smoothly. "Of course, Ilya. What would you like to talk about?"

She huffed, crossing her arms as displeasure streaked across her face. "In polite conversation, both partners are supposed to introduce themselves to each other! Otherwise one or both sides of the chat are gonna be confused and conversation will grind to a halt!"

I gave a skeptical look at that. "If I may, Ilya. You entered the conversation without introducing yourself, while it seems very clear that you know who I am."

"Do I?" she asked, heterochromatic eyes looking at me with sudden intensity. My throat suddenly felt parched, and I shrugged.

"At the very least, you know what I am." I said apologetically. In my ear, the Tresillo had begun commenting on the patsy having gotten into a vehicle of some sort. I couldn't be bothered to track the conversation anymore, it seemed quite clear that we'd been baited by the leak from the Magus Association. Not that the mercenaries being here with me would change anything of course, this wasn't a battlefield they could participate in.

I could feel it you see. Another presence, just out of the edge of my awareness. It smelled of blood, of a barely restrained anger and overwhelming strength. I knew, without a doubt, that if I tried to kill the girl in front of me that I might have perhaps a second or two to act freely before having my body splattered across at least two different time zones.

Ilya grinned. "That's true! Not that you have a chance against my Berserker, but I'd heard a lot about you so I wanted to at least get a conversation out of you before the war started properly!"

"That seems fair." I nod, my mind racing. "I'm not entirely sure how common all this 'reviving people from the dead' business you magi have, but I can't imagine the opportunity to speak to people like us comes up a lot huh?"

"Nope!" she responded cheerfully. "I gotta say though, you're not at all what I expected you'd be Chancellor Degurechaff."

I sighed, fair enough. I knew the moment I'd properly digested the nature of my predicament that the secret of my identity would be the first thing to go. None of my plans really hinged on that secret lasting the entirety of the war, though it did presupposed that I'd keep my operations as secret and shrouded in misinformation as possible. The fact that the first real operation of the war had me exposed to an enemy Master, an enemy Master of one of the Three Families no less, was not particularly encouraging.

Then I noted Ilya's reaction, noting her faintly embarrassed expression as well as the fact that she wasn't quite looking me in the eyes, combined with my previous statement-

I sighed in aggravation, stupid, blasted, perverted grail. "No, I didn't actually look like this while I was alive. You Einzberns have some explaining to do for perverting us poor Heroic Spirits like this, haven't we suffered enough?"

That got an entertaining response out of her, if nothing else. Her eyes widened, porcelain skin flushed with embarrassment as she deigned to look at anything and anyone that wasn't me. "T-that's not our fault!" she stuttered.

"I'm sure." I responded dryly, the nervous anxiety suffused throughout my body slowly leeching away. I could still very much die in the next few minutes, but at the very least it wouldn't be a boring death. Though I'd have to make sure that I didn't aggravate her to the point of siccing her Servant on me; young girls did tend to have explosive tempers.

That thought gave me pause, and I looked down at her for a moment. She was young, wasn't she? Unnaturally young almost, and more aware than other children of her own age bracket. That plus the fact that she had dressed up as me and that her family was based in Europe? Could these Einzberns have gained some measure of fascination or inspiration from me, and had begun training their children to match that legend?

The very thought of that made me sick to the stomach, but I couldn't very well ask her about that. No girl should be involved in this kind of conflict, no matter how apparently powerful or well connected she was. I gave her a smile, as kind as I could make it.

"Well, is there anything you'd like to talk about, Ilya?" I asked with all the caution of a bomb disposal team approaching a nuclear device. "I wouldn't be willing to engage you with anything relating to this war or the like, but I'll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability."

Ilya hesitated, I could see it in her eyes. Something had changed in her, something I'd said had caught her off balance, and she shook her head. "No, I don't think so. The only reason I talked to you was 'cause I sensed a Servant here and wanted to freak out some idiotic swordswoman from a thousand years ago or so. You're….not really freaking out, and I'm already late enough as it is, so I should go."

She stood up at that, daintily putting on her contact lens with significantly greater grace than what she'd portrayed in removing it. The strange little girl gave me a sad looking smile as she waved. "Goodbye then, Miss Degurechaff. It was nice to meet you. Hope you don't die too horribly."

There was something to that tone, something off and sad that I couldn't quite put my finger on, that forced me to speak. "Do you have a phone?"

Ilya blinked, confusion evident on her face. "A...phone? No of course not, does it look like I'm carrying a phone?"

She scoffed imperiously at that, an inkling of her earlier demeanor shining through as I hand her the pink abomination that the concubines had given me. Ilya stared at it in confusion, looking at the device like it was some alien bomb before looking back at me. It was an interesting reaction, one that spoke plenty about her apparent familiarity with mobile devices. It could very well be that when she'd commented about 'not carrying a phone' she had meant an actual landline instead of a cellphone.

"It's a smartphone." I explain patiently. "Once you've gotten settled and have some time to kill, I'll call you on it. We can set up a time to talk if you'd be still be interested then."

She gave me a suspicious look, her hand outstretched to the side, keeping the device away from her as though afraid it would explode. "This isn't gonna do anything bad, will it? Like explode in my pocket or give me cancer or something like that? I heard they're supposed to do that if you use them too much?"

I chuckled. "No, no, it's nothing like that. If you want, you can just throw it into a river and be done with it, I wouldn't mind, but I think it would reflect badly on me if I couldn't give my fan a proper conversation."

At my words Ilya's eyes widened, a curious burst of embarrassment, anger and horror suffusing through her face before she turned around, hastily stuffing the phone into a pocket on her jacket. She said nothing as she left, passing through the doorway like an avenging queen before what looked like an actual maid opened the backseat door for her. The maid looked similar to the silver haired, crimson eyed, girl in the airport. She seemed conflicted, drawn between giving me an admirably intimidating death glare and castigating Ilya for….something, if her hurried whispers were any indication. From there, it didn't take long for their car to drive off into the highway, that frightful, bloodthirsty presence at the edge of my vision dissipating as its Master disappeared into the night.

Regardless of what I sensed, I waited a few minutes before contacting the Tresillo. "Status?"

"Phantom is making it's way into grid seventeen dash nine, deeper into the city." came the dutiful response. I sighed.

"Don't bother, operation's a bust, we'd been had." I commented, standing up and stretching. "I suspect that Phantom's job is to run around the city all night and waste our time, so let's not play that game. We'll have a debrief at 2100."

"Affirmative." came the almost disappointed response. I chuckled quietly to myself. It wasn't really their fault, more of a failure of the foundational reason for the op. I'd have to take the transcript, but I think they did well enough in the context of an operation meant to waste our time anyway.

"We've got a Plan B, don't worry." I noted. "We'll have an opportunity soon enough."

It had been a gamble, that Ilya would accept the phone so quickly. I'd been honest in that the phone really wasn't intended to hurt her or anything, but a basic phone search after the fact should give a fairly detailed look of where she'd be going. I had no illusions that the device would be intact the entire time, surely someone among the Einzbern number would be somewhat knowledgeable about technology, but every second the phone was intact would be a win in our favor.

I sighed, a bone weary sound as I left the remains of my cheesecake behind. Somewhere along the way, I'd lost my appetite.


	8. 1.6

**1.6**

Reporting the results of the night's operation to Galliasta was going to be an interesting conundrum.

On the one hand, I could be rest assured that the Tresillo would be reporting to him directly. Regardless of whatever position I've inserted myself in as Galliasta's 'representative', they still followed Galliasta's direction with remarkable fidelity. As such, he would be aware of how I'd organized their forces around the airport, as well as my order to stand down once the Einzbern bait had entered the city. Consequently, he would also be aware that I judged the arriving Einzbern to be bait, but not why I had done so. The amount of information we got from this expenditure, at least from what the Tresillo would be aware of, would not have supported the risk of coming out in force as we had.

Of course, all of that wouldn't be an issue should I explain to Galliasta that I'd made contact with the Einzbern Master, had a nice chat over tea about what she was doing here, her plan for the airport and also that her Servant was Berserker thank you very much. Militarily speaking that was a wealth of actionable intelligence, nevermind that we had a tracker, sort of, on her as well.

It wasn't until the high of a near death experience had passed and I allowed myself time to think on the conversation that I realize I'd been thoroughly outmaneuvered.

The nature of the Holy Grail War was naturally antagonistic. Only one Master and one Servant could win, no more, no less. Alliances of convenience, like that done between Galliasta and McRemitz, were likely to happen but lasted only as long as the larger threat existed. The larger an alliance, the more likely fissures would occur between its members, until the organization falls to infighting and collapses under its own weight. This meant that, logically speaking, there were very few reasons for positive interactions between competitors. It could be rest assured that, as long as all actors were operating rationally, the only real interaction between the competitors for the war would be to ally against a mutual foe or extreme violence in an effort to rid one's enemies of this mortal coil.

However, there was another reason for the Master of one pair and the Servant of another pair to talk to one another.

The likeliest reason for one to talk to another, beyond the talk of an Alliance, was if one were prospecting for a back up Servant or Master to take up should their current partner….retire. While Archers may have the freedom of taking their sweet time in searching for another partner what with their Independent Action skill, most other Servants didn't have that luxury. Bereft of the mana supplied to them by their Master, death would be a foregone conclusion and while I imagined that most Servants wouldn't want to dwell too much on the fact their lives were tied to vulnerable sacs of flesh and blood, it was still a significant concern. As such, operating once again as a rational actor, Servants and Masters with less than reliable partners would do their best to scout out potential backups if at all possible.

As such, what would the likely response be should my Master, a somewhat unhinged, morally bankrupt fellow, realized that I'd had a pleasant conversation with a Master. Not just any Master mind you, but the Einzbern representative, the one whom he himself had concluded was the greatest threat to the Association winning the war. On top of that, what would he conclude once he realized that the Einzbern Master supposedly saw me in a positive light, not even so much as threatening me directly with any sort of bodily harm?

Suffice to say the response would be disastrous. Either Galliasta would consider that I was already maneuvering to betray him and betray his secrets to the Einzberns, or he'd do nothing and the trust between the two of us would decay over the course of the next few days. On top of that, if I don't inform him of my interaction with Einzbern now, then it would be taken as proof of guilt.

I sighed. I simply wasn't thinking clearly at the time, the surprise of meeting my opponent and realizing how young she looked as well as the potential for imminent death distracting me significantly. Of course she wouldn't just be a little girl, the Einzberns had been fighting over this prize for over two hundred years, they'd have a greater understanding of the realities of Master-Servant dynamics far in excess of anyone else in the war. Matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd written treatises on the subject that was gathering dust somewhere in their libraries. For all I know her intention had been to talk to me like that in the first place, sowing doubt between me and Galliasta. Her family certainly had a knack for deception, considering the trick with the plane.

I sighed again, deeper and more long suffering than before. If nothing else, I was thankful that Galliasta rarely looked over the Tresillo's reports. Even assuming they'd send their post-op to the man, odds of him immediately responding to it were slim.

We'd reconvened at one of the many buildings that Galliasta's corporation owned, some empty apartment designed as a hideyhole for the Tresillo. While there were other such buildings scattered around the city, this one had the advantage of being both close enough to the airport that we could reconvene quickly while also being a healthy distance away from the roads that the Einzberns likely would have picked. The Tresillo were scattered throughout the common area we'd taken over as our meeting room, their gear still haphazardly worn as conversation abounded. The team leaders were huddled in a corner together, their whispers interrupted only when I spoke to the entire group on something or other. It was distinctly freeform, much more casual than the military groups I was familiar with. Then again, this was a mercenary group, not one of my professional mage corps. Then again, again, they were also Hispanians.

The mercenaries seemed….well, they didn't seem quite that upset on the aftermath of the operation. I was certain that if I'd been in their position my irritation would have become a tangible aura at the way the op had been executed, at least according to the knowledge I'd be privy to. Being forced into such an operation on the fly after having been grilled by me for the past two days wouldn't have fostered positive feelings towards me. Especially considering that the surprise operation had accomplished the supremely worthwhile tactical result of 'nothing at all'. The debrief had lasted two hours or so as we looked through the specific issues that had come up during the operation. I'd intended on it being a relatively quick session, but as I questioned the mercenaries I was reminded once more about the differences between them and the 203rd.

In the aftermath of the second world war, the requirements placed upon my armed forces drastically changed. It was no longer necessary to field grand armies in the conquering of other nations, the face of war had changed, and while other nation states had taken time to come to that conclusion, I'd nudged what I could to further things along. There'd been doctrinal changes all across the board, ripped from what I could remember off my education in the Cold War, though the changes I'd instilled into OZEV's Mage Corps had been of my own design. The Hispania-bred Tresillo had been affected by that as a consequence.

The primary importance of mages had been their versatility and their ability to project force. The degree by which this was possible varied between individual mage classifications of course, but the top of the top were able to apply pressure far in excess of what a single person would be able to conduct. Strictly speaking, combining mages into battalions was an inefficient use of their talents, though a permissible one due to the nature of the first and second world wars as well as the relative infancy of the technology at the time. When the enemy would mass a large group of mages to strike at your front lines, there would be very little an early twentieth century military would be able to do to repel the threat except by using their own mages. With the readjustment of the world order after the second war, this was no longer the case.

In a world where significant military action prompted, at best, significant diplomatic and economic penalties or, at worst, concentrated nuclear fire, the age of grand armies striding the continent was over. More to the point, with growing education rates of the global populace, it was becoming easier to train up halfway decent mages. Even assuming a conventional military would defy the economic, diplomatic and human costs of an invasion, it would no doubt fall apart from guerrilla action led by enemy mages. It would be a slaughterhouse, all precipitated by the very basic fact that a group of mages loose and disciplined and decentralized within an enemy population would always extract a horrific toll.

As such, I moved ahead of the curve on that front. I prepared my Mage Corps by fracturing them into smaller, more versatile, units. I gave extensive research and thought into extended guerrilla warfare in urban and rural environments and applied that into our Mage doctrine. I'd pushed and pushed for more stealthy, more stable and, most importantly, more efficient computation devices so that a given team's combat effectiveness would rise exponentially no matter the situation. Koenig's initial foray had shown a taste of what such techniques were capable of, and in the aftermath of the war I had given him the task of educating my mages in comparable strategies.

I'd mocked Laverne's insinuation of OZEV Black Ops but upon reflection I could understand why someone unfamiliar with the inner workings of the organization would jump to such an unsavory conclusion. From an outsider's perspective what I was doing must have looked incredibly threatening, an expansion of the Federation's experiments into 'politically reliable' mages except expanded into an elite branch of the military on top of what fears others may still have had of my own honestly degrading skills as a mage. It would have been even worse from an uneducated bystander's perspective, the comparably straightforward horrors of saturation bombardment and a wave of rolling steel replaced with invisible phantoms and building paranoia. In a world that was used to the barbarity of early twentieth century combat, the sophisticated game of cloak and daggers I was preparing for would have been dangerously provocative.

Nonetheless, I had no choice. As such, the Tresillo were an indirect consequence of my own actions, though not one I would have been able to stop in any case. You see, throughout the second world war Hispania's government had opted for a policy of careful neutrality, a move I couldn't help but respect really. After all, in the aftermath of a fairly brutal civil war, why would any government seek to dip its toes into a foreign conflict with very little to gain? Despite that, the Hispanians were not fools and they were certainly not idle. From my briefings on the situation, their government had concluded that whatever OZEV was doing with its mages was almost certainly the next step in modern warfare and had sought to copy my Mage Corps wholesale. From doctrines, equipment, strategies, tactics, Hispania bothered poor Elya with constant attempts at acquiring such information from the end of the second world war all the way to when Hispania finally decided to join us.

Still, it took decades for them to finally do so, and in the interim whatever scraps of knowledge and tactics they'd stolen they expanded into proper doctrine, no matter how half-assed and ill thought out. The worst thing was that they only really figured out the bare basics of what we were doing, an outsider's view of OZEV's operations and adapted it to the needs of their government. However, they didn't understand the context of our operations, never really figuring out that the age of conquest by arms was over until they'd dumped an unwise amount of their national budget on foolish military designs patterned around 'their' mage doctrine.

Fast forward several decades and by the time they'd been inducted into OZEV proper, the damage was already done. My Strategic Command tore their hair out and prematurely aged as they sought to fix years of faulty and outdated doctrine and bring it up to the standards of a member state. By that time, a significant fraction of their mage population had already retired into the private sector, a migration we more or less allowed to happen. The information they held was outdated at best and proliferation outside of OZEV would only weaken anyone that would adapt those strategies. As such the migration continued, quietly observed, and typically resulting in several likely outcomes. They would either disappear into the countryside where their outdated modes of warfare would die with them, be installed into government or private positions as head of security and subsequently weaken them…...or go completely independent and establish their own mercenary corporations that were more or less harmless to OZEV overall.

That was the origin of Tresillo, a bunch of washed up military officers trained in watered down strategies and doctrines I'd spearheaded and which I'd allowed to go free because I didn't think it was worth the trouble. If the irony wasn't so rich and bitter I'd cry.

By the time the meeting had passed I was mentally organizing my thoughts on how to deal with this unpleasant revelation. After giving it a bit of a think, I didn't think it was actually too bad, as much as I might have felt it to be the case. It wasn't like I was leading the Tresillo against a modern mage force, the differences in aptitude and strategy wouldn't be immediately obvious in any foreseeable scenario in this war. I was fighting a group of magi in a pseudo secret war, not a crack Germanian unit after all. Still, I wasn't entirely certain whether any changes I could enact onto their operational capacity in the limited time that I had would make it in time to enact an appreciable difference in the war. Nonetheless, it wouldn't do to criticize the mercenaries on factors out of their control, factors that had been in motion since before they were born really.

Funny thing about that really, despite the grilling I'd done to them they still seemed relatively cheerful, though I had no idea why. Perhaps it was the fact that the mission itself was relatively painless for them, or maybe it was the fact that compared to trying to kill me for the better part of a day, watching a pretty girl drive around in a car was a vacation. Well whatever it was, it kept them in high enough spirits and by the time the meeting had ended I allowed them to phase out of the room, mercenaries chatting with each other about meaningless drivel as I closed my eyes and relaxed slightly.

Servants didn't need to sleep, an interesting condition that I had been taking full advantage off. I'd always made sure that my operations, my wars, had a healthy amount of preparation baked into it. That I'd been dropped into a conflict I'd had no prior experience in, in a situation bereft of a support system I was innately familiar with, was something of a nightmare situation actually. It felt too much like the beginning of my time in this world, the life I knew stripped away and forced to fend for myself, though admittedly the form I was in this time was quite a bit more advantageous than a newly born baby. I hadn't slept in this form yet, and even if it was no longer necessary there was some deep psychological inertia that made me….if not long for it, then deeply appreciative of it.

Not that I could afford to sleep anyway, the other competitors would be decades ahead of me in terms of preparation, and I had a scant few days to close the distance. Einzbern had made that fact perfectly clear, what with the sheer strength of her Servant as well as the way she'd effortlessly played me at the same time that I thought I had one over her. It disturbed me that such a young girl had such far reaching plans though. Did she conceptualize them on the fly? Did she conceive of them before hand? It was impossible to know for sure.

I opened my eyes, my gaze flickering towards the laptop in front of me. The phone tracker had done its job, the device still cheerily transmitting itself somewhere in the outskirts of the city. I'd vaguely recalled Galliasta commenting that they had property somewhere in that area, which would make sense if that was where Ilya had retreated to. At the same time, it could just as easily be that she'd taken up residence in one of the many other locations around the city and-

_"Caster, are you there?"_

I squeezed my eyes close, sighing. Speak of the devil and he will appear.

"Yes, Master?"

I kept my tone cool and composed, painfully aware that I was about due for a status report to him now. I'd been delaying it in my head as much as I could, thinking that as soon as I found a practical excuse I'd be able to leverage that into something actionable. Alas, I still had nothing, and I mentally braced myself for his castigation.

_"Are you done with that reconnaissance mission now?"_

I adopted a smooth, professional, tone even as alarm bells rang in my head. "Yes, Master. As your sources had indicated, we made contact with the Einzbern asset but-"

_"No, no, tell me later. It's not important right now, though I'm sure you did a fine job. I have other matters to discuss."_

I paused at that, a frown creeping onto my face. I felt both relieved and somewhat put off at the same time, surely a major operation such as this would warrant something more than just 'I'm sure you did fine?' Considering the amount of effort we'd just expended to carrying out an off the cuff reconnaissance operation at his insistence, I was expecting something more than mild dismissal. Nonetheless, that meant I didn't need to explain the depressing extent by which the Einzbern Master had manipulated me, so I was content to push that as a problem for future me.

The fact that even a delay on this conversation merely strengthened her ploy was not lost on me. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, damned conniving Einzberns.

"What would you desire, Master?"

_"You recall Bazett yes? You remember your report on her?"_

I gave the mental impression of a nod. The last time we'd seen her, or perhaps more accurately the last time I'd seen her, was her approaching the Ryuudou Temple. It had been an interesting study, observing what had, until earlier tonight, been my only exposure to another Master-Servant pair. They seemed to work together well, though my observation was rather cut short by a crimson blur I could only assume was Lancer's work. Rather rude.

_"Good. Bazett is still missing, and my own exploration into the topic hasn't revealed anything substantial. I want you to go to the Ryuudou Temple and find her."_

I blinked at that, my frown deepening. McRemitz and her Lancer didn't seem the sort to just disappear, neither did their circumstances last time I saw them reveal anything significant. I wasn't entirely certain why they went to the temple, but as both were present it likely had something to do with more than just reconnaissance of some sort. That they disappeared shortly after arriving at the temple was concerning, pointing to some kind of enemy action.

"Understood, Master. Considering the relative unknown threat I'd be dealing with, I would like to request-"

 _"Yes, yes, take what you need."_ came the reflexive reply. _"Whatever you need, you have, you should know that by now."_

I suppressed the flinch of irritation at Galliasta's callousness as he ended the call, allowing a few moments to pass before I gave an explosive sigh. A few of the Tresillo nearby glanced over at me, but didn't say anything. A few seconds passed and I closed my eyes.

All things considered, the amount of freedom I was being given was actually rather nice, the resources I was given in order to carry out the needs of the war was even better. That the optimal method for Galliasta was to leverage his resources from a position of safety, I imagine that in his position I'd do the same thing. I certainly didn't resent it, it was the most optimal strategy to take, but something about the way he operated rubbed me off the wrong way. Perhaps it was the arrogance? That wasn't quite it though, he'd certainly prepared for the war rather extensively given the circumstance.

My eyes opened, my attention snapping to the remaining mercenaries. One of them flinched, a face I'd committed to memory blinking as our eyes met. I smiled.

"Lieutenant, would you and your men accompany me for an outing of sorts?"

* * *

**I**

* * *

As a manager, it was very important not to overload your employees with too many things at once. Any project could be accomplished with a measured approach and a steady pace that didn't impose any undue stress upon one's personnel. Imposition of an employee's time and effort outside of previously agreed upon time and limits, even in the accomplishment of a project, typically had long lasting negative effects on the employee that would need to be dealt with delicately. Of course, there would be occasions where one would have no choice and buckle up, but as much as possible I tried to avoid that.

This was the reason I had opted not to bring all of the Tresillo with me like last time. With the rather lackluster conclusion to that operation, and the debrief afterwards, I was leery of bringing them all in for yet another reconnaissance mission that might lead nowhere. They'd done good so far, and I wanted to reward them for that.

There were a handful, however, who hadn't. As such, I was well within my rights to drag them along as punishment for their disappointing performance.

Lieutenant Anton Laurent of Ghost squad. Quiet, dependable and the leader of the team that had so thoroughly screwed up in the first diagnostic exam with me. They, like the rest of the Tresillo, had been instructed to come at me with the best that they had, to kill me like their life depended on it. The result? Where Laverne had tried to take me down with focused explosive fire and the fourth team had tried to do it by blowing up the entire floor on my head, Laurent had led Ghost on an attempt to take me down in close quarters combat. Close quarters combat with a mage, while using their fists. No knives, no guns, no weapons. Fists.

I would have found it cute, if it wasn't so very insulting. Laurent had yet to properly feel the sting of his failure to take me seriously, and so another mission where the rest of his co-workers would get to go home seemed good enough as a punishment. Assuming he didn't screw anything up this time as well anyway.

It was snowing as I approached the mountain, a thin layer of snow slowly enveloping the city in it's wintry embrace. Mount Enzou was a greatly spiritual place, natural defenses in place that greatly inhibiting access to it by the forcing spirits like myself to take the front gate. I wasn't exactly sure why this was so, if one had intended to create a defensive arrangement around the place then surely leaving such an obvious entryway was a weakness? If I'd been in charge of constructing whatever esoteric defenses this place had, I would have carved out some hidden path towards the temple hidden in the forest and had that serve as the secret path. At the very least it would have been more secure than what they currently had.

I'd sent Laurent and the rest through the forest. That McRemitz and her Servant were missing implied a certain degree of danger, and I wasn't about to send my resources into the most obvious entrance throughout the entire mountain. I didn't go too deep into the details, I didn't want to be the sort of person that micromanages things after all, so I trusted Laurent to carry out the details as appropriate. The added bonus was that if he screwed up again, he would only have himself to blame.

"Ghost one, status?"

 _"Situation nominal, commander."_ came Laurent's quiet voice. He had tried speaking in Akinese at the beginning, but while I appreciated the effort his attempt to do so had been completely unintelligible. Not that I was bullying the man or anything, but the fact of the matter is that as his native language was Frankish, the transition into speaking Akinese was perhaps a bit too much. I was out to punish his lackluster performance, not his ability to speak a language he'd never needed to before and as I'd picked up plenty of the language by this point, it was no trouble accommodating him.

"Good. Set up for observation and inform me if anything's amiss. If you or your men are threatened, disengage."

_"Acknowledged."_

I sighed at that. Good, that was one problem dealt with for now. Though that wasn't to say that everything was solved.

The last time I'd been here, things had been relatively straightforward. The stairway had been crowded with the usual sort of traditionalist types, and moving in among the crowd had been easy enough. The biggest impediment to my approach at the time had been that of a monk talking to me, and only because I'd wandered into the temple's private area. The crowding I'd experienced last time I was here would be completely absent what with it being the middle of the night, and since the last time I'd left a familiar here things had been calm and quiet.

So why was it now, that there were police stationed at the entryway?

There was a heavy police presence at the foot of the mountain. Not so much that would imply an ongoing situation, but certainly enough that something had happened. Yellow police lines crisscrossed the grounds, a handful of officers with steaming cups of coffee in their hands as they braced themselves against the snow, grim eyes scouring the foot of the mountain. There were a few dogs in the vicinity, of the working with the police variant and not the random stray kind, and they seemed just as alert and vigilant as their masters.

Concerning, very much concerning.

I walked up to one of the figures, my own body invisible to the world, in the hopes that there was perhaps some convenient paper or article detailing why exactly they were all out here. No such luck, and the guards themselves seemed withdrawn and grim, a sight I'd seen more than once on the trenches. A few of the younger ones didn't seem to be handling it very well.

Next to the police officer I'd peeked on was a dog, and I don't know whether the common assertion that dogs could sense things outside of the world was true or not, but it looked as though she was staring straight at me. Her eyes were hard and unyielding, her body tense and solid in contrast to her human's relative anxiety. I knew that even if I was completely intangible and the dog's attack would be less than useless, that the creature was willing to throw down against me if it meant protecting her master. I knelt down to pet the animal and it seemed as though she relaxed slightly to my touch, she snorted slightly, a mist of warm air and saliva spreading through me as her tail wagged.

I didn't have a lot of data to go on really, but that the local police had considered a force of roughly a dozen police officers on the scene told me more about the severity with which they were treating this than anything else. The fact of the matter was that something happened at the Temple, something that had alerted the mundane authorities in the city within the past few days. That this was related to the Grail War was going to be extremely high, especially considering the fact that McRemitz and Lancer had been here during that time period.

I walked through the barricade, my figure invisible to the world, leaving the dog and her master behind as I began to climb.

The journey up the mountain was quiet. The light from the base of the mountain, from the gentle lights of the street lamps and the activity of overworked police officers, slowly died. The skies above me were dark, heavy clouds obscuring any possibility of light, the only thing accompanying me the sound of my heartbeat psychosomatically reminding me of my mortality even as a spirit. I imagined that if I was still mortal, or if I didn't have the ability to scour this entire mountain clean of life, that I would feel thoroughly disquieted at my journey.

The courtyard was dark and lonely when I arrived, the once warm temple now strangely desolate, a light blanket of snow underlining the degree of its abandonment. There was a wealth of leaves and twigs littering the area, bright yellow rolls of police warning tape and orange traffic cones blocking off the entrances to the temple. I wandered the temple's exteriors, the chittering of distant insects my only companion as I waded through the dark aura that seemed to have visited this place while I was gone. Ghost team would occasionally vocalize to each other, the mercenaries having set up positions surrounding the temple, as I retraced the steps I'd taken days ago.

The tunnel was collapsed when I found it.

I manifested myself in the physical plane. Cerulean light flashed briefly in the dark of night, my light reflecting upon the falling snowflakes as my body was once again clothed in my 'uniform'. My shoes touched the powdery ground, my hand reaching out as I ignored the plethora of police warnings and danger symbols scattered around the area. The damage was recent, very recent, though the cause of such a cave in was difficult to ascertain. I couldn't tell if it was triggered with magic or with simple explosives, though the damage was centered some distance into the tunnel itself. If it was a trap, it wouldn't have triggered by random tourists, one would have had to fully commit to the exploration before the trap triggered. I wasn't sure if the tunnel had collapsed before or after the monks had died, insufficient data.

Something had gone wrong here. Whatever it was that McRemitz and her Lancer were up to, there was very little doubt in my mind that they were involved. I wasn't entirely certain why they'd butcher the monks, they were a nice enough sort when I'd visited, but perhaps their lives had been required for some kind of ritual? Despite the tunnel's collapse, there didn't seem to be any other overt signs of combat either. Lancer didn't strike me as a cautious or stealthy individual and assuming that this war's Assassin was active, unless it managed a decapitating strike on both Master and Servant I couldn't help but imagine there'd be some sign that they'd put up a fight.

Curious. Very curious.

_"Overwatch."_

The sudden call lured me out of my thoughts. "Yes?"

_"Ghost three has identified a humanoid thermal signature. Located within the premises of the temple."_

I turned around, dismissing the caved in tunnel for the moment as my gaze focused on the dark entrance some distance from me. I hadn't noticed at the time, focused as I was on the tunnel, but it seemed that the police lines in this particular section of the temple had been torn down.

"Understood. Establish a defensive perimeter around the temple, if the police or any member of the government climbs up the stairs tell me. If anything else passes the threshold, shoot them."

_"Acknowledged."_

My dress fluttered in the non existent breeze as I entered the temple, my eyes alighting on the walls. Where the outside of the temple had seemed pristine and peaceful, if neglected by time and decay, the inside looked like some kind of haunted house display. Blood stained the walls, splatter patterns on every other surface with the occasional pool of it decorating the ground. The halls were frigid, the temple too old to have had the advantage of any modern heating instruments. With a twitch of my will I hovered over the ground, noting the lack of bodies; apparently the police had already laid claim to them, replacing them with dusty white outlines. Casual observation seemed to suggest they were fleeing from their assailant before they were butchered.

The main hall held the largest amount of damage, and it was clear to me that some sort of battle had occurred here. Broken walls, shattered columns, a collection of footsteps and blood smears that had made the previous hallways look positively demure in comparison. Without knowing the demeanor and capabilities of my fellow Servants, I couldn't tell if all this destruction was something one of my kind had been responsible for or not. My eyes alighted on a nearby column, a spherical chunk of it having been blown out. Was the damage done by some kind of magically enhanced firearm, or had it been done by a Servant's weapon? Impossible to know from a glance.

My eyes flickered to the middle of the room. This had been where the center of the butchery happened, judging from the sheer amount of blood splattered across the floor. There were outlines here, perhaps a dozen bodies or so, but the sheer violence enacted here meant that the only area of the floor absent the color crimson were the few spots below the bodies that had managed to stay dry before the police had retrieved them.

And there, in the middle of all that, was a woman.

Well not so much a woman, perhaps it was better to describe her as a girl, though her apparent age was somewhat tricky to determine. Silver hair past her shoulders, blue and white robes that had a passing similarity to the vestments of the Church, her gloved hands were clenched together as though in silent prayer. Her back was to me, but judging from the tilted position of her head I could imagine her eyes to be closed in prayer. Despite the blood, she seemed completely pristine, her presence not distracting the crime scene in any noticeable way.

I landed myself on the sole sections of the floor that hadn't been suffused in blood, a respectful distance from the girl. Despite the apparent light attire I'd disdained before, my 'uniform' was remarkably comfortable. The sheer chill of our environment never breached my clothes, and more to the point it felt soothing. I felt more protected here, with my dress and my jacket, than if I'd been wearing my old uniform; as though I was wearing something of true weight rather than the thin pieces of cloth the concubines had given me. Not that I would have worn that dreadful outfit here, anyway. Civilian clothes were all well and good, but if the girl was with the Church, then this was very much a Holy Grail affair. I couldn't very well look like...that, first impressions were important after all.

"Good evening, sinner." the girl called out, her voice serene. "I must comment that Ryuudou Temple is only open to the public from the hours of nine in the morning to five in the afternoon. You may need to return at some later date, though considering the tragedy that had occurred in this place you may need to wait a while longer to pay your respects."

I paused at that, choosing my words carefully. "While I'd agree that visiting hours ended a long time ago, I'd say that the presence of the police would be a far greater impediment to entering the temple, wouldn't you say?"

There's a pause at that, the girl's tone shifting. "True, but does that not make you both a sinner and a criminal? Flouting the laws set forth by modern society would be damning enough, but to do so on the site of such a massacre would not reflect well on you with the police so desperate to solve it."

This time, I felt my eye twitch at her words. "Sinner eh? I must admit, that's a rather unorthodox way of greeting someone. I imagine that if I was of a more sensitive disposition, that I'd think you were trying to pick a fight with me, little miss."

"Are we not all sinners, in the eyes of god?" she sighed, a rather morose sound coming from her. "Are we not all to love each other, as children under god's care? If my words upset you, then please be comforted by the fact that I do so out of love."

Her hands reach out, almost hovering over the outlines of the dead. "For you see, it is not so much a simple concept of me 'picking a fight with you' as it is 'explaining the truth to all who would listen'. That you are a sinner is a given, as all who live on this earth be sinners until forgiven by god's love. That you are a criminal is also a given, as you have flouted the law of man to enter here. I do not pronounce these words with condemnation but with mercy. So often reality is obscured by lies and half-truths, I would say that the times behooves us all to be all the more forthright for it."

With that, it seemed that she was finished with whatever ritual she'd been busy with. The nun stands and in that same moment the blood around her moves as well. It took a few seconds for me to realize it hadn't been blood at all. Cloth encircled her, the color of crimson, wrapping around her like a snake before eventually settling upon her shoulders as a shroud. She turns around, golden eyes framing an angelic face, before she blinks. After a few seconds, she speaks again.

"Although, judging from your outfit, you may be a tad too forthright in another direction." she says, with a thoughtful expression. "To walk about in such scandalous clothing so casually, attracting the lascivious gaze of men. Beyond simply a sinner and a criminal, are you a pervert as well? Truly, you wallow in the avarice of earthly sins."

I take a deep, steadying, breath and count to five before I released it. The nun continues to look on curiously. "I'm going to ignore that, because I really don't know what I would say to you if I had to respond to that-"

"To be so blind to yourself, that you do not truly know yourself?" the nun comments, her voice turning pitiful and sad. "Truly, that is a most crippling deficiency. For if one cannot know oneself, how can one know others?"

I stared at her, my blue eyes matching her golden ones. From what I could see, the girl didn't seem to be deliberately trying to irritate me. Then again, she could simply be a skilled dissembler, I wasn't so arrogant to think that my skills would automatically triumph against everyone I meet. That didn't make me any less infuriated at her sanctimonious, irrational, tripe, but at least the anger cleared my head a moment. I hovered above the ground, moving closer to her as she merely looked on, unafraid.

"Judging by your outfit, you're not exactly part of CSI Fuyuki." I comment airily. "May I presume that you are the arbiter for the war I've been hearing so much about?"

She blinks at that, a moment of confusion, before covering her lips with a gloved hand. Her giggle was both curiously whimsical and infuriatingly saccharine. "Oh dear. Well, in a way I suppose I am? Though I must apologize, I realize I'm being somewhat rude aren't I?"

Her hands reach out to her sides, grabbing the layers of her skirt and executing a curtsy. "My name is Caren Ortensia, and I am here on behalf of my Father, Kotomine Kirei, the arbiter of this Holy Grail War. If I did not miss my guess, may I presume that you are the Servant Caster?"

I sigh, my shoulders relaxing at her words. If she was here on behalf of the Church's arbiter, then things were likely to not be as bad as I thought they may be. I looked around the halls of the ruined temple. Despite that, I didn't feel like handing her a straight answer, not after her irritating performance earlier. "Oh? May I ask how, exactly, you came to that conclusion?"

Ortensia blinked at that, her hands folding at the front. "Well, I could say that your outfit itself revealed to me that you weren't normal- that is to say, that you did not seem like a mundane member of the population or a magus. Given that fact, and my awareness of the Holy Grail War, I would assume that you were either a Master or a Servant. A Master would not walk about a crime scene such as this without assistance of some kind, and it's more likely for a Servant to walk into such a dangerous situation. On top of that, you do not seem to have any visible means to combat an enemy as a Lancer or Saber would, as well as the fact that you seem capable of engaging me in intelligent conversation. Considering that the Servant Assassin has already been summoned, you could only be Caster."

She paused for a moment, looking expectantly at me as I quirked my eyebrow. "At the beginning of all that, you said "I could say that'. So since that's not what you intended to say, what would you say instead?"

The nun smiles brightly, pleased. "Well I would say that Father Kotomine is aware of all Servants in the City, and told me about the blonde haired, blue eyed, Servant belonging to Atrum Galliasta, of course."

I sighed, mentally evacuating from this conversation as my gaze turns towards the outlines. "Miss Ortensia, would you happen to know what exactly happened here?"

Her smile noticeably dims at my words, and her gaze follows mine. "Very little, I'm afraid. The mundane authorities discovered something amiss yesterday morning before Father or I could redirect their approach. They had been directed here by survivors of the attack, though thankfully the manners in which the monks had died were nothing out of the ordinary. The Fuyuki police is treating it in the same vein as that of a serial killer, and have suppressed their findings to the public as much as possible in the interest of searching for the perpetrators."

"Right." I muttered, looking about the area. "Though judging by the Church's involvement here, this isn't some simple serial killing is it?"

Ortensia shrugs, footsteps echoing across the temple. "The details are scarce, Caster. The obstruction into the tunnels below the temple has been theorized by the local police as likely being connected to the slaughter of the monks. They have sent teams deep into the tunnels below in search of anything unusual, an effort stymied by other obstructions and damage all along the tunnel system. Something significant had occurred beneath the mountain, thankfully contributing to the police's ability to come to a worthwhile conclusion that they can accept. Considering the pace of the war and the typical pace of an investigation of this scale, it is likely they would still be searching for their leads by the ritual's completion."

I humm at that, deep in thought as to the nun's words. "So that's what the police say, what do you think?"

The nun gives a small smile at that, her wandering steps having brought her between me and the entrance I'd passed through. "I'm very much sorry, Servant Caster. Any further information I would offer would be in violation of the Holy Church's neutrality in the war."

"So you're saying a Servant or Master did this?" I ask, my tone dry as the Sahara. Ortensia gives me a shocked look.

"Servant Caster, I have no idea what you're talking about." she says, her tone that of innocent outrage. "The Holy Church is bound first as a neutral party between all competitors and then to the preservation of the secrecy of Heaven's Feel. I could not possibly have implied the presence of a Servant or Master upon the mountain around the same time as the monks had been killed, as such information could be leveraged into a strategic benefit for any other Master or Servant privy to such information."

"But, at the same time, you would be powerless to stop anyone from coming to those very same conclusions based upon the supporting data, would you?"

Ortensia gives me a beatific smile, her steps having brought her all the way back to where she started. "What conclusions would you be talking about, Servant Caster?"

I don't groan aloud, I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Despite that, she giggled at me, and I grit my teeth against her faux obtuseness and carry on. "Miss Ortensia rest assured, I'm only here in search of allies of mine that had gone missing. Once I've determined that to my satisfaction, I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."

She blinked at that, turning her head to the side in thought. "The vast majority of the monks that used to call this place home are, sadly, deceased. Any of those that still remain are currently in protective police custody, I do believe Souichirou Kuzuki would be among them, if you would like to speak with the survivors at some point."

I commit the name to memory, just in case, but shake my head. "Not the people I'm looking for, unfortunately. Though if that were the case, I will have to apologize for taking up so much of your time. I'm sure this nightmare will be difficult to deal with, and I'll get out of your hair before I inconvenience you further."

The fact of the matter was that I simply lacked sufficient information on how to proceed. It was clear to me that the nun knew more than she was letting on, and as a representative of the arbiter she could be a potential source of information on the war. Despite that, I was unwilling to deal with the obvious danger in appealing to a neutral member of the war. At the best case scenario, the Church would assist me but impose a significant cost for their assistance, at the worst case scenario they would punish me for even asking.

That I was also put off by her delusional words to god and his predilection for mercy need not be stated.

Ortensia smiled at me. "Oh that's a relief, I thought you were going to ask me about Bazett McRemitz."

The silence passed on for a few moments, and I like to think that my face or tone betrayed none of the internal panic I was feeling. "I….I imagine that asking such direct questions would be in direct violation of the Church's neutrality."

She nodded. "Yes, that's very much true. That's why I'm glad you didn't ask, as that would have caused problems for both of us."

I frowned, the rampant amusement in her eyes leaving an unpleasant feeling in my gut. Was she….

"I'll be sure to not ask you about the status and location of my allies then." I venture forth hesitantly. The girl's eyes somehow grew even more amused at that.

"That is indeed fortunate, Servant Caster. I'm glad you didn't ask, otherwise I would have had to deny you the information that Miss McRemitz is currently occupying one of our rooms at the Church due to the significant injuries she had sustained. I would also have had to deny you the information that I would shortly be leaving this temple and would be returning to the church as soon as possible."

I blinked, raising up a hand to forestall any other words she might say as my mind raced. The nun didn't seem to mind, her hands coiling around her shroud, playing with it, as she observed me. I had to admit to feeling some degree of respect, even with the protection granted to her by her neutrality, she certainly didn't seem to be afraid of a Servant. I wasn't entirely sure if that was bravery or stupidity.

"Would it be possible for me to visit the Church?"

"Why of course." she smiled. "All are welcome to our parish for consultation in regards to the war. The Holy Church is committed to the cause of neutrality between all competitors and to the preservation of the secrecy of Heaven's Feel."

I allowed myself to consider that for a few moments, before raising up my hand once more. I turned around, not caring what Ortensia's reaction would be.

"Ghost One?"

_"Standing by."_

"Here's what I want you to do." I begin, recalling the map for Fuyuki in my head. "I want you to spread out into the Shinto region, around the area of the Kotomine Parish. You are to strictly observe the situation but are not to, in any circumstances, interfere in anything you see or commit to any action on the church. Completely hands off, understand? If anything out of the ordinary occurs, I want you to tell me about it, understand?"

_"Acknowledged."_

"I also want you to get Laverne on the line." I add. "I want her and her men to go to Miyama Town, I want the entire area under observation on a permanent basis. Have them set up listening posts, video cameras, whatever you all have. Make sure that the other two are on standby."

If McRemitz was injured, then she was injured because of some offensive action by another Master or Servant. Injuring her in the first place was no easy feat, from the information privy to me the girl was some kind of combat specialist to the Magus Association. As such, if someone had intended to hurt her, it would have to be someone powerful like the Three Families.

I didn't know where the Matous and Tohsakas lived, I had an inkling of where the Einzberns where, but I had an idea of somewhere important to the Three Families right? That protected leyline from a few days ago, the one I couldn't find. Odds were good that the installation protecting that place belonged to one of the Three Families, and as the only lead to the other two families that I had, I had to make sure that entire area was drowned in our surveillance. If this was some measure of offensive action by our enemies, then we needed information before we could strike back in some way. I wasn't entirely sure if Laverne would even be able to find anything, but I'd rather have them out doing something rather than nothing.

_"Acknowledged."_

I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing. If McRemitz was injured, then that means someone had already struck. As far as I was aware, the war hadn't started in earnest yet because not all competitors were active. If someone was already making moves before the war had even started, then I needed to move now.

I turned around to find the nun looking at me curiously. My lips curved into a smile, one that seemed to give her pause.

"Miss Ortensia, would you kindly do me the honor of escorting me to the Church? If possible, I'd like to speak to Father Kotomine."


	9. X.Tresillo

Miyama city was a fairly expansive area, a largely residential district in contrast with the more commercial focused Shinto city, which both made up Fuyuki as a whole. Between the two, Miyama had been here longer, and unlike the more organized sections that made up Shinto, had a more free form organization than one would imagine such a major area to be. For the purposes of simplification, these areas could be boiled down to a handful of key locations.

The first was the residential area, divided into two notable sections differentiated largely by the relative age of the structures itself. There were houses in this district that were hundreds of years old and as such reflected the ethos of the time, being more traditionally akinese in design with sliding doorways, tatami mats and the like. The roads were less orderly in nature here, a direct legacy of a time when centralized city planning wasn't quite in vogue, and so the city planning committee having had to account for the more free form placement of the houses. As such, navigating the area was considerably more difficult than in other parts of the city and while still maintained as well as could be expected paled in comparison to the more modern districts. Here the difficulty in travel was far less pronounced, as that same city planning committee had evidently sought to compensate for the ghastly chaos of the olden times by designing all new houses along much more orderly placements. Of course, 'new' in this case could easily date back to more than a century ago, but for the most part the design in this place was significantly more western influenced.

Grouped around this area would be Homurahara Academy, a local high school from which the Miyama town youth were constantly funneled towards. Hundreds of students passed through the aforementioned residential areas on a daily basis, orientating themselves through both the labyrinthine maze of the older district and the orderly roads of the newer with all the familiarity of those that had lived there their entire lives.

Mount Miyama, though less of a mountain and more of a hill or a particularly sharp incline, was the shopping district set right in the middle of the residential areas and the school. A portion of the Miyama town residence operated here for their livelihood, but a significantly larger percentage commuted past this into the Shinto district across the river. Those that remained here were mostly self employed entrepreneurs, either fresh graduates attempting to start something new or old timers that had been at it for decades.

All told, the population of Miyama city was, by more recent estimates, tallied easily into the thousands. Now to be fair, the instructions and location given had specified Miyama town in particular, which referred to the residential area of the city. Unfortunately, what with this area positioned near the center of the entire city, it meant a significant degree of foot traffic not just from the high school but from the neighboring city as well. This of course did not include travelers passing through the town in transit to somewhere else.

These collected facts were, among other things, significant factors contributing to Lieutenant Isabel Laverne near tearing out her hair in frustration.

"She can't possibly be serious right?" she muttered aloud, her voice the exasperated wail of overworked peons the world over. "There's like, hundreds of people to observe, dozens of streets to bug and tape, we can't feasibly do all that with the entire company, never mind half a dozen people! Then to do it all tonight? Is she insane?"

The modulated voice of Sweeper Two called back to her, an amused tilt in Morrison's voice audible through the intimidating electronic haze. _"Maybe. Do you wanna tell her that though? Actually, do tell her; I got a bet going with Lanza on who's gonna piss her off first."_

Isabel scoffed. "Thought Laurent did that all by his lonesome?"

_"Yeah but not really. He and his team irritated her, that's not pissing her off, entirely different definition. Besides, I'm pretty sure if Laurent really pissed her off we'd be fishing his body out the river by now."_

"So what you're saying is you wanna bet on the first person her Majesty is gonna rend to bits, is that it?"

_"...I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of your statement."_

Isabel sighed, choosing to ignore her second in command. Typically that was the wiser option, what with the american's penchant for cracking jokes, but occasionally she did have some nuggets of wisdom to impart. Yes it was vanishingly rare, like a unicorn in the wild, but then what was her current situation if not that?

It wasn't normal to be up in the middle of the night installing a camera onto an electrical post overlooking a freeway. It wasn't normal to have been mobilized on a mission to spy on some girl only to abandon the mission minutes after contact was made. It certainly wasn't normal to get one's ass beaten halfway to Samar by an OZEV Black Ops operative cosplaying as her patron saint, but here they were, living in such a ridiculous reality.

Then again, it's not like Miss Sioux was unpleasant to work with per se. Her work was certainly more challenging than whatever Mister Galliasta had arranged for them, not that this was particularly difficult. Serving as bodyguards to his favorite little plaything of the week wasn't exactly the kind of thing you'd shill out top dime for, but the man had paid them a prince's ransom faithfully and well so she wasn't gonna complain about it. When Isabel had heard that Galliasta's latest new favorite was coming down to speak with them she didn't have a lot of faith on seeing anything worthwhile. Probably a spoiled little princess that had wanted to play at tin soldier for the afternoon, maybe go laugh and flirt with a few of the burlier men then fuck off to whatever it was they did when not 'servicing' Galliasta.

That….really wasn't how things turned out.

Isabel stood, gently stepping off the electrical post where a small, nondescript, camera would observe the foot traffic. They'd prioritized working on the streets that would lead the occupants of Miyama town to either the school, the shopping center or further out into the Shinto district via the bridge. They had no choice really, it's not like this could all be done in the middle of the night, and while she would have liked to have Rodriguez or Fang that just wasn't possible with them on standby. Isabel had no idea what they'd have to be on standby, but she could only imagine shit was going down somewhere in the city and that Sioux needed someone to bail her out.

She scoffed at that. Yeah right Isabel, Marietta Sioux needing help, in your dreams Isabel. Maybe she'd need help burying the bodies, in between lecturing the company on their lackluster combat doctrine and questioning whether they'd been taught to shoot by a blind rat or a drunk monkey. The worst part was that Isabel couldn't even say that Sioux was wrong, the Degurechaff lookalike had flown circles around them all with such totality that Rodriguez was starting to keep a shrine to the girl in his locker. Either that or develop an unhealthy crush, she wasn't even sure there was a difference at this point.

Isabel didn't like to think of herself as inclined towards the conspiracy whack job demographic of the world. Articles on Germania's biotech companies working on constructing some clone of their deceased Chancellor? Laugh it off and joke about how that country still hasn't gotten over the loss over their Kaiserin. The members of the 203rd and their family disappearing from the public eye for some kind of plot against Albion and the rest of the world? Scoff and say that it's not like they've had any real rest over the past decades, it'd only be natural to want some peace and quiet from the media and all that. Albion once again making some play at reducing Germania's influence via the direction of some underground council of mages?

Okay that one made sense. Perfidious Albion and all that.

So really, she tried not to think too many crazy thoughts about Sioux. Never mind that she spoke with a faint Germanian accent, looked like some kind of Degurechaff clone or that their employer was from Albion. Isabel had worked in the business long enough to know that unnecessary questions were often more trouble than they're worth, and anything relating to the Devil of the Rhine was just so far out of her pay grade it was in low earth orbit.

The mercenary allowed a trickle of her will to flow into her device, her feet departing from the ground in a soft burst of cerulean energy as she took stock of her immediate surroundings. Eyes scanned the immediate surroundings, the residential area quiet and peaceful, as her suit's much ignored thermal regulatory system kicked in. It was rarely necessary, but what with the gear being former Germanian stuff all of their hardware was suited to operating in colder climates. Not that a light bit of snow counted anyway near that, but she'd take what she could get.

"Okay ladies and gents, status?"

_"Sweeper Two. Did what I could in the shopping district, oh have you tried any Akinese yet? There's like a bunch here-."_

_"Sweeper Three. School's clear, bugged and wired all the way to the foundations."_

_"Sweeper Four. Bridge and associated streets still in progress. Will update in ten."_

_"Sweeper Five. Ditto. Bridge harder than expected, lots of security. Might need another approach."_

_"Sweeper Six. Residential areas still in progress. Won't be finished in time."_

Isabel sighed, around about what could be expected really. It wasn't that the scope of the problem was completely hopeless, if anything positive could be said of Galliasta's funding it meant that logistically speaking anything the Tresillo needed they had, and anything they didn't have could be gathered in short order. It was a pleasant state of affairs actually, compared to the usual employer that would do the absolute minimum effort necessary, it was downright heavenly. Didn't help in actually doing the legwork to carry it all out though.

"Acknowledged, Six. I'll give you a hand."

_"Copy."_

The magical energy surrounding Isabel spiked, her body thrusting forward, not nearly to the point she'd wake up every magical sensor in the country, but definitely more than a full unaugmented sprint. The view before her turned into a pale haze. Rooftops and roads slowly being buried in a soft layer of snow, the vaporizing impact of snowflakes against her shield as she made her way to Six. It was an energizing burst of power, and not for the first time she marveled at what Sioux had done to her gear.

Her suit and computation device were long outdated at this point, but even that wasn't necessarily a bad thing as far as mage tech if it was Germanian gear, such was their dominance in the field. Each suit and device the Tresillo had acquired were specifically specialized into certain roles, and so they'd organized each squad to fulfill those roles. That was why Rodriguez had access to the more offensive oriented tech baked into the system, as well as why Fang had some kind of fancy tech that prioritized stealth casting and also why her squad basically had all the people who could carry out stealth casting to any acceptable degree.

She wasn't exactly sure what Sioux's augmentations had done to their gear, but she could certainly fucking feel the difference in her's. It was more than just a basic diagnostic spell whatever the fuck she said it would be, but it felt rejuvenated. The familiar creaks and peculiarities of a well used machine replaced with the pristine, if dull, performance of a brand new system. At least she thought it was, she certainly never had the experience of testing pristine OZEV gear, but she imagined it was brand new anyway. The device was more responsive, the energy consumption trimmed down, the energy production expanded upon, even her sensors were sharper than, if that bleeping sound was any indicati-

She blinked at that, instinct forcing her to take a hard swing to the left as something passed through her sight and her interface started whispering incessantly at her. The mercenary ignored it, her flight path leading to a sort of uncontrolled landing on the tarmac, her feet skidding on the road as she swung her head wildly in search of-

"Hey, didn't you read the signs? This is a non-speeding area."

Isabel's eyes widened, a sliver of crimson energy, blindingly fast, and the smeared shadow of something before her body was cast aside in a burst of azure energy. Her computation device hummed violently as a sheen of cerulean energy flashed madly in the conflagration for a moment before shattering in a thousand bright shards. The chill of the night air disappeared in a burst of crimson heat as the world spun around her, the device screeching in fury before abruptly turning silent as she crashed upon the concrete of a nearby wall with a terrible roar.

Her interface was practically screaming at her now, target diagnostics tracing a red shadow at the corner of her vision even as it yammered at her about a catastrophic power outage. Her device was in even worse shape, undergoing a thermal purge as whatever had hit her had overloaded its system so as to force the reset protocols. Isabel eyes struggled to keep the shadow in view, though what with her interface yammering on about contusions and possible bone fractures she knew that she wasn't exactly in the best place to do anything to her attacker. The impact had taken the breath out of her lungs, and every attempt to take in another was met with damn near debilitating pain. Cracked ribs maybe, or perhaps her heart had already been crushed in the attack and her body didn't know she was dead.

A shuddering, painful, breath proved the idea false and Isabel would have chuckled if she could. Never the easy way out, huh?

"Huh, that's a surprise." a masculine voice called out, tone somehow curious and dismissive at the same time. "I thought for sure you were a Servant, what with you running about like that. You certainly felt like it too, though now that I can see you properly it seems I'm mistaken."

Well that certainly made her feel better, that she was about to die as a result of an accident. If she had to die, she would have liked to die comfortable and fat in her own bed, not from some kind of dumb mistake like speeding in a residential area. Still, Isabel was nothing if not petty, and she struggled to point her gaze in the direction of her killer before suddenly feeling her breath stolen from her once more.

It wasn't a shadow apparently, but a man. A rather attractive man, with bronze skin, pale white hair, a red coat and what looked like some kind of black armor that had no business being that distracting to look at. He was a few feet away from her now, studying her with an analytical gaze, and in her half conscious state Isabel recognized that she should probably hold some form of animosity towards the guy. After all, if she could take his words at face value, he was the one who'd put her in this state. Then again, what with him recognizing his 'mistake' maybe she wouldn't actually die here?

Yes, the delusions of the mildly concussed though that may be, she had to hold on to some kind of positivity here right? Turning into a ball and bemoaning life's inherent unfairness would be helpful to exactly no one at the moment, least of all her. She tried to speak into her mic again, a vain hope of trying to contact her squad, but her attempts at speech still had more in common with a retching cat than actual human conversation and so she abandoned that soon enough.

The man stepped in closer, his arms to the side, hands completely empty of weaponry though Isabel had no illusions about his lethality. If it had been even a week ago she'd have had major doubts about someone taking down a mage without a weapon, but what with Sioux's 'examination' she'd believe damn near anything at this point.

"Hey, looks like you're still alive?" he commented easily. "I'm surprised honestly, though I'm glad you're not dead. My cute little Master's going to kill me if I just went out and made a bother of myself on someone uninvolved in this entire mess."

He paused for a moment, his gaze to the side, his face as though in deep thought before chuckling. "Well that settles it then, my Master would rather not you die as a result of her…'idiot Servant's mistake'. She'll be coming over now so just sit tight, by the time she's done you won't remember a thing."

Isabel supposed that should have made her feel better, though as to how she won't remember a thing was quite worrying. It could be a euphemism for properly silencing her, and though the man seemed somewhat insufferable he didn't seem particularly smug about it. That and what with Sioux's display of hitherto unheard of magic, this guy's 'master' possessing some ability to wipe out memories seems disturbing likely.

"H-help." she muttered into her mic. "Viscon on hostile."

There was only a brief moment of silence before she heard Morrison's voice, devoid of her usual humor. _"Gotcha, on our way. Three, you're with me. Four, Five, I want you on approach now. Six, get on the horn and get-"_

Whatever else it was that Morrison was going to say, she lost it as the man grabbed her by her suit, dragging her onto the street with overwhelming strength and disturbing ease. He dropped her on the floor and Isabel found herself with a particularly grand view of the night sky, a full moon peaking out of the clouds as the man stood over her.

"Then again." he commented, his voice somehow turning even more curious than before. "I'm not entirely certain you are uninvolved, are you? I mean, odds are good some other Servant used you as a patsy, if their magic signature is all over you, but if that's the case they would have moved by now shouldn't they? Or are they waiting on my Master to arrive, and that's when you people will strike?"

Isabel would have dearly liked to speak, perhaps questioning him on what the hell a Servant is, or maybe that if he was some kind of combat specialist wear less eye catching armor and also maybe if he'd like to go out to get some dinner sometime? None of it seemed to fit particularly well with the environment though, and if she was so desperate to flirt on the first guy to hit her then her future wasn't looking particularly bright in the first place. So she said the only thing that did make sense at the moment.

"Screw you." she groaned, the audio distortion masking the pain in her voice. Even that additional exertion strained her recovering body, but Isabel didn't care, it was totally worth it. The man chuckled.

"Well, fair enough." he shrugged, his hand reaching out.

She wasn't sure what he was going to do, but what with unknown magical capabilities behind him she sure as hell wasn't gonna let him touch her. Her eyes glance to her indicator, noting that the computation device had nearly completed its reboot. The indicator helpfully informed her that while her rifle was about five meters away from her, she still had her sidearm and knife firmly attached to her belt.

Isabel's hand reached out for her knife. She didn't need to kill him, though she doubted that could even be done at this point. At best, she could probably take off a few fingers, use the shock of that to do something. Maybe if she was lucky she could even reach her gun, though she doubted she could manage that. Then again, what else was she gonna do, wait for someone to save her?

"Hey! Hey! What's going on over there?"

The sudden interruption brought both the Servant and the mercenary pause. There, at the end of the street was a red headed kid, a black trash bag in his hand and a look of what could best be described as righteous indignation. Despite the obvious danger of the situation the kid seemed hyper focused on the sight of them, dropping his bag and running towards her. He stalled slightly at the sight of her gun, and then even more at the huge depression in the wall that her impact had made. Somehow, the sight of both failed to make any lasting impact and he ran even faster towards her.

Was he an idiot? Did this kid want to die? Somehow the sight of the kid confused the man in red even more, his eyes turning hard as the boy ran. Isabel could see the man clench his fist, a confused look on his face, and the mercenary figured that if she was ever gonna move, now would be the best time to do it.

Her computation device whirred into life, a surge of magical power enveloping her as the strange cerulean energy that Sioux had imparted to her flared into life. Impossibly, the man in red seemed to notice it a split second before it even manifested, his gaze aimed back at the ground as though he'd never been distracted in the first place. But Isabel was no longer there, the mercenary spinning to her feet as her device buoyed her flight, her arm augmented with power as she sent a magically charged knife straight at his chest. At this distance and the sheer speed of her throw, the man would be lucky to only be impaled into the wall

He dodged it.

Not allowing that to sway her thoughts, definitely not allowing that bullshit to sway her thoughts, her device buzzed into action. Magical energy flowed into her body, accelerating her straight to her fallen gun as she unholstered her pistol and opened fire on the man. With the sheer speed of her movement, and the sudden burst of fire from her sidearm, he'd only have a split second to react and even he'd have to-

He dodged it, the bullets exploding onto the wall nearby as the man in red watched on with a bemused expression. Somewhere along the way, blades the size of butcher knives had found their way into his hands, and she didn't like the way he held them so comfortably.

She swore, dropping the useless sidearm onto the ground and performing a move that could best be described as an aerial handstand. Isabel picked up her rifle, her spin ending with her feet impacting a nearby wall as she allowed her knees to crumble, the mercenary crouching against the structure in defiance to the law of gravity. At the corner of her vision, she saw the red headed boy stare at her like a gormless idiot, and Isabel did her best to ignore the boy as she set her sights on the man in red and opened up a rain of magically enhanced rounds.

If nothing else, he didn't dodge this time. Instead he somehow blocked her bullets with the damn things in his hand. His arms moved fast, insanely, supernaturally, fast and even as her eyes widened in terror and her rounds exploded unto shrapnel against his blades he continued to stand there, the magically enhanced firepower doing very little to sway him from his stance. By the time the magazine had run empty, all Isabel had to show for her efforts was the man staring down at his weapons, a few cracks along the surface of the two blades and the smell of gunpowder in the air all the proof that she'd even opened fire on him.

"Huh." he said, before turning back to her, renewed interest in his eyes. "Not bad."

That was all the excuse she needed. With a burst of energy, she flexed her legs, turning around and tackling the red headed idiot that was still somehow standing here and taking him with her as she sped through the street. She quickly turned the corner from which he came, her hand grabbing onto the nearby electrical pole and using the momentum of her approach to swing them around it quickly. Isabel urged her device on, moving as fast as she could in the claustrophobic, narrow, streets while still able to maintain some level of control to her bursts. She knew better than to take to the air, he'd somehow shot her down once before, and she wasn't about to take the risk of him repeating it with a passenger in her arms. As such the only option she had now was to run through the streets, hopefully try not to get anyone killed, and hope her squad could somehow bail her out before the hunk in red could kill her.

"H-hey, what are you doing!" the boy yelped out, eyes widening in fear, his hands tight on her arms. Isabel cursed, and keep the boy alive. That too.

"Saving your life idiot." Came Isabel's reply, her sensor blinking wildly as she noted the man in red following her. Not completely out of sight as a result of her speed, not falling behind but following her. What the hell was wrong with him? "If I leave you there he's gonna fucking kill you, so sit tight and maybe we won't die in the next few seconds yeah?"

Her sensor screamed as soon as she finished, and a nearby chunk of the street exploded inches away from where she'd been. Isabel swore, shifting her flight directly to her left. Her device once again contemptuously throwing the rules of gravity and momentum back at reality's face, and her speed and momentum carried through with her, the gate exploding inwards in her wake. Isabel did it again, bursting through the doors of a traditional Akinese home as the boy squawked in visible protest. She ignored him.

If she spoke to him, they were going to die. If she spared a moment of her attention on him, they were going to die. It was all she could do to think-

Her sensors began blinking, and while she couldn't tell what the hell it was trying to warn her about, she trusted its judgement. She turned her momentum slightly, resulting into a sort of baseball slide just as a black and white blur filled the air above her. Isabel's momentum halted for a second as her foot touched the wall, both her and the boy in her arms staring at the two blades embedded into the wall.

Nope, nope. Not thinking about how bullshit that is, not thinking about how cool that is. No thinking, just running.


	10. 2.0 Contention

**2.0**

From afar, Kotomine Church looked rather foreboding. It was isolated, set upon the top of a hill like a brooding guardian and set apart from the rest of the city by carefully manicured lawns and deep set shadows. Perhaps it was the fact that I wasn't particularly inclined towards organized religion, but even the light fixtures on the church did more to accentuate the darkness than instill any degree of light or comfort into the surrounding area. I wasn't entirely certain where my trepidation was coming from, but if I imagined there was some degree of strange esoteric magecraft engraved into the surroundings to ward off curious onlookers. It couldn't possibly be potent enough to affect me, but be that as it may there was certainly something strange about the church itself. At the very least I felt some minimal compulsion to avert my eyes from it as I stared at the structure from a distance.

That was an interesting thought. Despite having been summoned into this class, being a Caster did not give me any specific insight into the systems and branches of magic that lurked beneath the surface of the world I knew. As a consequence, whatever capabilities a priest or nun vetted and sent by the Holy Church would be a greater unknown to me than a conventional magi. Perhaps they simply used magecraft and dressed it up in silly miracles, or perhaps they truly had unique abilities? While the former was more manageable, the latter was significantly more concerning, and the fact that I didn't know bothered me.

If the Church did have some unique abilities independent of magecraft, then the odds of those abilities being granted by the Being X would be high. As such, if Being X's abilities could be noted at any point within the organization itself, that was proof positive that it was being manipulated or influenced in some way by the bastard. It would certainly be capable of it, I didn't think it would take a lot for Being X to instill Its authority on some poor fool and use them as Its cat's paw.

Despite that I didn't think the odds were high of any such agent of the church to be empowered with abilities as explosive as the likes of myself or even Sioux. The amount of resources necessary to bring a baseline human up to that level had to be significant, and I was more powerful now than I had been. Throwing more of the same at me would be an inefficient investment of resources, and I never got the impression that Being X was inclined towards empowering Its minions unless it absolutely had to. As such, odds were that even if the nun walking by my side were to suddenly explode into holy light and duel me to the death her powers would probably not be sufficient to combat me in my current form. Then again, stranger things have happened.

I bid the taxi driver that had taken us to the church so late at night a goodbye and a hefty tip before I left the vehicle, timing it so the man would have little chance to deny the tip in that quintessential akinese way. Ortensia had hypnotized the driver into a free ride, and while that was useful I felt bad about taking advantage of the man in that way. Call it the capitalist in me being morally outraged at one's work not being acknowledged I suppose.

"Somehow I imagined the church to be more extravagant." I remarked casually, more as a way to fill the air than anything else. The drive over here had been relatively quick but silent overall and while Ortensia had certainly polite she was no longer as talkative as she'd been at the temple. I suppose that made sense, the Church would certainly try to control the information the participants had, and feeding me more likely stretch their oaths of neutrality far too thin. "One would imagine that for Father Kotomine to impose his will on seven different magi he would have settled for something more extravagant than a church on a hill."

"Oh Father Kotomine doesn't impose his will on the Masters, Miss Caster." Ortensia smiled serenely as she lead me onward. "He's a true man of the cloth, avarice and extravagance like that goes against the precepts of the church. He wouldn't dream of abusing church funds that way."

I gave her a skeptical look. "In my experience, avarice and extravagance go hand in hand with any human institution, even the Church."

Ortensia shrugged. "Perhaps, but Father Kotomine is different."

My eyes narrowed, studying the nun as she led me forward, the church slowly growing larger at our approach. "I imagine that he is, you'd know more than me of course. Though how exactly is he different?"

It stood to reason that anyone the Church would send to this bloodbath would be competent. Nepotism and incompetency thrived only when the necessity of accomplishing one's objective grew secondary to maintaining inter-communal social bonds. If this had been going on long enough for the Church to understand the severity of the war, they would have sent their best.

Ortensia gave me an amused look. "Miss Caster. Are you asking out of a legitimate curiosity of the supervisor's personality, or on the more practical discourse of what makes him worthy to be involved in this war."

I shrug. "Can't it be both."

The nun tittered at that, almost skipping forward at my words. "Well, if you must know, he was involved in the last war. Which is more than can be said of most."

I considered that for a moment, but before I could ask another question, I felt the world change around me. As though we'd crossed some invisible threshold, my awareness expanded deeper into the church, a gauze over my senses lifting. I could sense life, a handful of presences that shone in the dark, but even that was overwhelmed by another life between them. Bloody, predatory, it was so out of tune and so much more than everyone else that there could only be one conclusion.

There was a Servant in there.

If passing the threshold had any effect on the nun beside me it didn't appear on her face, the girl's smile firmly planted unto her lips as we made our way to the church's entrance. A touch of her hand and the doorway creaked open with a foreboding reluctance, like some prop from a haunted manor.

If the outside of the church was foreboding, then the inside of it was absolutely suffocating. Not a single light source existed within the structure itself, only the pale light of the moon serving as the sole source of illumination into the scene ahead of me. Through the darkness I could only really see three figures. One stood deep in the shadows, vested into what looked like a priest's robes as he was bent over in concentration. The other lay before him, prone unto what looked to have once been the church's altar, though details were rather difficult for me to see from there. Then the last figure-

"You know I'm pretty surprised." the blue clad servant remarked. "With hands that decrepit, I was pretty sure you'd fuck up by now."

A soft chuckle echoed across the church. "Now, now. It's rather unbecoming of a young man to mock their elders so relentlessly. It's in rather bad taste, especially when that elder is doing both you and your beau a favor."

The Servant scoffed. "We didn't ask for your help."

"No, but you needed it nonetheless. Or would you rather I pull at dear Bazette's bandages, tear open the wounds I've so painstakingly closed and throw her out into the street?"

Even from afar, I could see the utter tension on the Servant's back, and I couldn't help but wonder at the priest's sheer willingness to mock him. Before anything else could happen though, I saw Ortensia move past me.

"Good Evening, Father." she called out, nearly skipping down the aisle. "I found a poor, lost, sheep while I was out, and she seemed to want to meet you."

Lancer turned, his gaze momentarily torn from the priest as he put his full attention on me. His weapon materialized in his hand, a blood red spear that he twirled about until it nestled between his shoulders, his arms nestled around it like a snake. His gaze was vaguely interested, the air of a predator sizing up a potential morsel, though not with any particular intent. If I had to give a visualization it'd be something like a dog lazing about in a ditch, giving me the stink eye. I matched his gaze, smiling pleasantly at the ancient warrior as I recalled everything Galliasta had told me about him.

I wasn't entirely clear on the mechanics of Servant to Servant interaction. For the most part, communication was the transmission of ideas and intent to another in a peaceful, non inflammatory way. Considering that, how exactly was I supposed to talk to a Servant? Our entire existence in the waking world was the intent to harm, we were summoned less as people and more as weapons. Anything I said would be suspect, merely another manipulation until the inevitable butchery began. It would be easier with this one, his Master and mine had arranged a deal after all, but I couldn't help but wonder at the feasibility of diplomacy against the rest of my kind.

"Good Evening, Lancer." I nodded, the blue haired Servant raising a brow at me in curiosity. At the back of my mind, the mental image of a dog quirked its ears in response. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but considering your Master's silence over the past few days, my own became worried over what had happened to the both of you."

It was, perhaps, somewhat risky to say this aloud. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for an enemy Master to have bugged the Church in search of any good tidbits to fall into their lap. Despite that, I held some degree of faith that the Church was competent enough to intercept such a pathetically transparent ploy, as well as that their neutrality meant that they wouldn't be able to do anything with that information. The situation was too tense for me to speak vaguely, and I imagined that this Servant wasn't particularly inclined towards anything like subtlety. For all I knew, McRemitz hadn't even informed her Lancer about our arrangement, and I'd rather not antagonize him unnecessarily.

Lancer paused at my words, giving me a look before turning back towards his Master, gears grinding behind his eyes. A moment later it widens, and his lips split into a wide grin. "Oh. You're that man's Servant then? Gall-something, right? Bazett's mentioned him, you're his witch?"

I quirked my eyebrow. I'd never been called a witch before, but I suppose that made some sense, what with me being a Caster and all. Ortensia giggled, walking to the priest's side. "I suppose that's true enough." I responded diplomatically, my gaze returning to the blue haired Servant. "I think it's rather foreboding that my Master's seen as...unpleasant even by his own allies. A failure in public perception, I suppose."

Lancer snorted. "I guess you could say that. I could also say that if it takes that much energy not to look like an insufferable prick, then that means you are an insufferable prick."

Well, I couldn't exactly argue with that. Instead, in that deflective manner of all experienced politicians, I changed the subject. "I suppose, though now that I'm here I can see why you two have been out of touch. I'm sorry about your Master."

His reaction was instantaneous, a surge of emotion breaking through that carefully blank facade. A tightening on his shoulder, the disappearance of that smirk on his face, the way his feet adjusted into something vaguely like a combat stance. Then the moment vanishes, his hand twirling lazily as a flash of crimson embeds itself against the floor. "Yeah, I'm sure you are. Thanks, I guess."

Lancer's Master had been beautiful once, at least before whatever had happened had taken half her face. More than that really, I could see the edges of burnt skin only barely covered by the medicinal gauze and bandages plastered over her body like half peeled wallpaper. The smell of antiseptic was rather strong, and what remained of her suit had suffered either extensive thermal damage or had been cut open to help facilitate proper care. It was hard to note any specific details on her injuries, what with her appearing more mummy than woman at this point, but judging from the extensive amount of work on her hands it looked like whatever had done this to her happened at near point blank range.

"What happened to her?" I ask, moving in a bit closer to get a better look. Before I'd taken more than two steps Lancer growled at me, the Servant moving closer to his Master's side. I blinked, stopping in my tracks, which resulted in Bazett's dog settling down quickly thereafter.

He was protective of his Master. That made sense of course, in that if he was going to be protective of anyone it'd be the woman shackling his spirit to this world, but I wondered if it was less from the necessity of his current position and more from the innate dynamics of their relationship. Surely I couldn't expect every Master-Servant pair to be the professional distance I and Galliasta enjoyed, but Lancer seemed more invested into his Master's well being than I could reasonably expect. How curious.

"Went down below the temple, someone knew we were coming." he spat, a look of distaste and contempt on his face. "Tunnels were rigged with traps and explosives, runes and poison gas and other crap like that. Took the better part of a day to carve our way out of there, if it had been anyone else they would have died."

I frowned. "If you were trapped, and you had no way out, why didn't Bazett use a command seal to get you out?"

With a command seal, such a trap would have been easier to escape, though at a heavier price. They were spells of absolute power, able to compel Servants into action beyond their normal capability at the price of having only three of them. The collar around a Servant's neck at the worst case scenario, a method for their power to go beyond the possible at the best.

Lancer's face somehow soured even further. "The first trap to trigger damn near blew off Bazett's arm, she's been unconscious ever since. You try navigating your way through death mountain and see how well you do, if I ever find the craven filth that set all that up I'm gonna kill him. Too much of a coward to actually fight us like a real man, as soon as I find him I'm gonna carve out his guts and show him how a real warrior fights."

At that, I blinked, the pieces falling into place. He was protective of her because he'd failed. Bazett had trusted Lancer with her life, bringing him with her into a potentially life threatening situation and the first thing that had happened had nearly taken his Master from him. Then he'd had to spend a day fighting his way out with the proof of his incompetency in his hands, bleeding out in front of him. He must have been furious.

"She's rather lucky actually." A deep, thoughtful, voice echoed towards me. My eyes glanced over to the stooped figure next to Bazett, withered hands expertly addressing the woman's injuries. "Bazett's specialty lies along the field of physical augmentation. If she'd been less cautious, less quick, she would have lost far, far more. At the very least she will still have vision in her one eye."

Lancer growled. "And if you were more skilled, less of a rotting old man, maybe you could have saved the other eye too."

"No, Lancer. If not for me, your dear Master would have died twice over by now. Truly, you should be thanking me, instead of defacing the house of god with your profanity." The old man leaned back, a smile on his lips as the moonlight danced across his face. His eyes met mine, and the smile crept wider.

Father Kotomine was old. Unnaturally old. His eyes gleamed forth from the shadows, dark obsidian orbs reflected by the moon's light as they stared at me. The bones of his face seemed melted, like a child had taken the clay mold of a man and smeared it into an imitation of what it once was. The skin around his face was pale, hanging in that peculiar way that the very old would have, like one's skin was slowly rotting off the bone. His hair was snow white, not a sign of encroaching baldness visible on his head, and I imagine he would have been rather handsome when he was younger.

For a moment, my thoughts on Bazett and her Lancer fled as my gaze focused solely on the living corpse in front of me. I imagine that if I'd met him in some other context I would think him some weak, frail, old man. Perhaps I still would have, if I hadn't noticed his hands steady as steel as he had finished bandaging Bazett's body, or if I'd sensed even an iota of fear in his voice as he mocked a Servant. I would have thought he was insane, but the sheer confidence and certainty in his voice gave me pause and I recalled what Ortensia had said.

It was his eyes that concerned me though. It was like Lancer's almost, a kind of expectation, a predatory hunger so severe and so fiery that it transcended the body he resided in. If I was of a more poetic bent, I would say that it seemed as though his soul was too...large for the body it currently resided in. A pretty metaphor, one built to underline a very simple, understandable, fact.

This was a man that had seen the last Holy Grail War. More than that, this was a man who saw it, and came back for seconds.

"If you'd hurt her, you'd be long dead by now old man." Lancer grumbled, though he seemed to acquiesce to the priest, the embedded blade dissipating into the aether as he crossed his arms. The priest smiled, turning his gaze to me.

"Oh I have no interest in hurting anyone, Lancer. I only ask for some measure of professionalism, you're not an animal." the priest said, his gaze still on me. "And you must be the Servant of the Scroll. Greetings, Caster, I hope that Karen wasn't too much of a bother. She can be rambunctious and excitable at times, the curse of youth, I'm afraid."

The nun didn't quite snort at his words, but it was a near thing. "My apologies Father. After all, all that I'd learned, I learned from you."

He gave her an indulgent smile, like that of a doting grandfather to his progeny, and I coughed. "Of course, Father Kotomine. Thank you for helping Miss McRemitz with her wounds. From what I'd seen, if it hadn't been for you, she probably would have died."

Kotomine didn't seem to react to my words, his eyes moving from mine towards Lancer. "My role as a neutral party would typically tie my hands in the case of interfering so blatantly to save your Master, but as the Seventh Servant has yet to be summoned, the war has yet to begun. As such, my role compelled me to maintain the balance of the War by preserving her life until the war may properly start. Consequently, until the Servant of the Sword is brought to fruition, you may remain here for the interim. I would ask for you to remain within the confines of the Church grounds; for a Master to find a safe haven here as her Servant enacts her will outside its boundaries is a step too far."

Lancer gave a dismissive shrug. "Whatever. Are you done?"

"Yes." the priest nodded. "Karen will bring your Master into one of the nearby rooms-"

"Don't bother, I'll do it."

With that the blue clad Servant reached down, a strange gentleness in his touch as he brought the broken woman into his arms. Kotomine shrugged.

"Very well, Karen if you could lead them to her room?"

"Of course, Father."

At that, the three of them moved on. The nun leading both Master and Servant deeper into the church. I could see Ortensia trying to drag some degree of conversation from the Lancer, and while it seemed that she succeeded to some degree, it was clear even to me that he was thinking of something else entirely.

And then they were gone, only Kotomine and I left. He walked away from the altar, moving to a position nearer to me, almost to my side, as I suppressed the urge to step away from him.

Truth be told, something about the man rankled at me. I wasn't entirely sure what it was that irritated me so, but the structure of the war required me to keep up the polite fiction of studious courtesy regardless. In the end he was just another obstacle, same as the other Masters, but one that could perhaps be leveraged in some way or another. Displeasing him was unwise, at least not without reason.

"I must admit to being somewhat surprised, Supervisor. I don't recall any specific ruling regarding assisting a Master in quite the same way you're doing now. I can't help but imagine some degree of bias affecting your decision making here."

Kotomine blinked at that, glancing over at his patient. "Bias? I'm afraid I don't understand, Caster."

I shrugged. "From what my Master had told me, Bazett was involved in the hunting of some creatures or other. Vampires, which I find largely dubious, but the fact of the matter was you and her were involved together in such a goose chase. One could easily come to the conclusion that you helped your former co-worker, breaching the bounds of neutrality you'd sworn to uphold."

The priest was quiet for a moment, as though in thought. "Understandable, perhaps. That is the typical pattern of human behavior no? For one to be assisted, and therein be assisted in turn. To enact a good turn to someone, and be returned that favor sometime in the future. Such a thing is the very basis of civilization, without such quid pro quo even friendships fall apart, never mind the grander constructions of nation states. I'm rather surprised at your objection to my action, I imagine that as your Master has an alliance with dear Bazett, that whatever reason I would give be immaterial to the utility of my assistance."

My gaze strayed towards the cross high above us. "I don't deny the usefulness of what you'd done, but I'm rather more curious as to your rationalization for it. You're a priest, a man of god, I would have thought that you'd go ahead and say that by some oath you'd sworn that you couldn't in good faith leave an injured woman to die."

A pause, before the priest spoke again. "One must know the flock, to know the words that would best speak to their hearts. I do not imagine that a man as hungry for blood and war as Lancer would accept the meek assistance of a man of the cloth. Better that he think me as something strong and powerful, capable of help or harm, than some weak man to be manipulated."

"How calculating of you." I murmured. Kotomine chuckled.

"I would simply call it prudence." he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "Now, is there anything else I can do for you, Caster? Though I am the Supervisor of this war, I am also an ordained man of god. If you would like, I would hear your confession."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "No, I'm rather allergic to religion actually."

"Oh, a non-believer then?"

"Quite the opposite in fact. I don't believe, I know. But if you insist, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Kotomine smiled, hands opening up to his side. "Whatever you desire, if it were in my capability to grant, I will give."

"Have you ever spoken to god?"

Kotomine seemed taken aback, but I didn't particularly care. Considering the circumstances of my new life, I had to be certain that I wasn't participating in another rigged game. It would be just like Being X after all, dropping me into a war that It could manipulate and influence at will. It was clear enough that It had been doing something like that while I was alive, but now that I was more powerful in this form the odds were good for that bastard to figure out more ways to constrain and limit my power.

And if It had to do that, the most straightforward thing he could do would be to influence the supervisor of this war. Certainly not the only method, but the most obvious and potent path. All that bastard would need to do would be to give Kotomine dreams or visions or what not, convince him that he was acting in the name of God and the matter would settle itself in no time. If that was the case, that It was speaking to Kotomine as his 'God', then I'd be obliged to butcher the priest here and now before the war could really get started. I refused to have another Schugel hanging over my head, listening to whispers in his ear. I already had one waiting for me at the Tower, I certainly didn't need another.

The priest remained quiet for a while, his brow furrowed in thought. I didn't mind him taking the time to consider his response, not when his answer would determine whether he lived or died. Eventually he responded.

"If by talking to God you mean whether I have ever been sat down to speak to Him as though he were some simple correspondence, or as though I had some landline directly into his thoughts? Then no, I have never spoken to God." the priest sighed regretfully. "If such a thing had ever happened to me, it would have simplified a great many events and journeys in my life."

I remained skeptical. "What about anything like visions or signs or the like? That's a favorite of your Church right, waking up one morning due to some heaven sent dream?"

Kotomine chuckled, walking slowly to the nearby pew and sitting down. All I could see now was his face in profile, the shadows obscuring most of his features. "No, nothing like that. I spent the vast majority of my youth in search of such signs, cataloguing every dream and stray thought. I had prayed deep into the night, seeking what guidance I could, that I might find His Light guiding my path."

"And did you ever? Find this god of yours in your life?"

"No."

His tone was filled with a sort of grim certainty, and despite myself I couldn't help but sigh in relief. That was good, very good in fact. "I see. Well alright then, thank you for satisfying my curiosity, Father."

"You are welcome, Caster. I must admit to harboring some curiosity, my own questions to ask, but I shall refrain for now."

I blinked at that. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask Father. I recognize how rude I must have been, asking something so personal, so of course you'd be free to ask your own questions. Quid pro quo, right?"

He chuckled again at that. "Oh no, no, it's not that. I harbor no ill will at all. It is only that I would prefer not to inconvenience you at this time, not when you have so much still to do."

"Excuse me?"

With that, the receiver lodged into my ear began beeping. I frowned, looking suspiciously at the priest, who didn't seem to react to my glare. He merely sat there in the dark, the incline of his head indicating that he was staring up at the cross. I clicked on the receiver.

_"-grid five dash two dash nineteen. Sweeper requires reinforcement. Sweeper One is currently engaged with an unknown mage, tagged as Red One."_

_"Acknowledged Sweeper Six. Cutter en route in five."_

_"Lanza incoming in four, how you doing Isabel?"_

There's a momentary pause, followed by a terrible screech, like the sound metal would make when eating itself. _"Jesus fucking christ, why's he throwing swor-"_

The silence thereafter was thick and pregnant with anxiety before my men began speaking again. I wasn't paying attention.

There had been multiple advantages of adjusting the Tresillo's gear as I'd done. It had made their gear better, amplified the aptitude of each item to its theoretical peak level of performance as well as a variety of other more minor benefits. There was also a more immediate advantage.

A twitch of my will, power pushing my sight beyond this form. I felt a sense of disorientation, as though I were squeezing myself through a sieve and then-

I was in a traditional Akinese house, my vision limited as Isabel moved through the house. She had someone in her arms, a boy, and they were fleeing. I sensed Isabel's fear, her elevated heart rate, all being dutifully recorded by her computation device.

Then my perspective shifted again, Isabel turning around, and I saw a man in red. Swords in hand, a curious look on his face as he looked at Isabel. It lasted for only a moment, before an amused smirk graced his lips.

"You know, you'd go a lot faster if you dropped the boy." he asked, his tone almost teasing. "If you do, I promise I'll give you a head start."

And then he moved, a red blur of death and I heard Isabel scream.

A moment later, I found myself back at the church. I controlled my breathing, keeping my elevated heart rate low and my eyes closed as I considered my options.

It seemed clear to me now that my hunch was right, the leyline in Miyama Town apparently did belong to one of the Three Families. Very important in fact, if they were protective enough to send a Servant after Isabel just by her being there. He had to be, I felt it in my bones, and the level of speed he employed went far beyond what one could safely employ in such an enclosed space. Despite myself I couldn't suppress a twitch of grim amusement, a Lancer in Blue and another in Red, were we all supposed to be in primary colors? I hope I didn't miss the memo.

I opened my eyes, turning to find Kotomine only to find that the priest was already staring back, a thoughtful expression on his face. I bowed slightly.

"My apologies, Father. It seems that I do have plenty still to do. We should talk, once we have more time."

Whatever his response, it was lost as I rushed out through the entrance of the Church, the doors banging aside in my hurry. I pressed my finger to the receiver.

"This is Overwatch." I speak into my earpiece. "Lanza, Cutter, I want you to secure viscon on target. Do not engage, not if you know what's good for you. Ghost, you're all on standby. Be prepared to reinforce on my mark, but remain as you are."

The odds of this being a calculated attack was low. There was no feasible way they could have predicted the arrival of my squad, which meant that this was a reflexive response. This wouldn't be a situation like with Bazett, a calculated bait to bring me into a kill box, at least not initially. The enemy Servant was taking his time, probably waiting for Isabel's backup to show up whereupon he could dismember the entire group and interrogate the survivors. As strange as it may seem, as long as Isabel could keep running time was on our side. We didn't need to rush our response.

I was going to save her of course, that was more or less non-negotiable. I'd sent Isabel and her squad there, put them at risk, and if I were to order the rest of my men to observe the Servant instead of rescuing one of their own I'd lose what control I had over them. No man on the ground would be willing to listen to a commanding officer so capable of sending them to their deaths. The odds were good that I'd have to do something like that in the days ahead, but I had no intention of burning any positive opinion the men had of me for a temporary advantage.

As for the Servant himself, that was a trickier part. According to Kotomine, if he could even be trusted, the Servant of the Sword had yet to be summoned. So despite the blades this one held, he wasn't the Saber, which narrowed things further. No signs of ranged weapons, so possibly not an Archer, though that didn't necessarily cross out the possibility of him having a ranged response. I knew that Lancer was still in the Church, and that Berserker was with the Einzbern girl. That meant he was most likely a Rider or an Assassin.

Despite myself, I felt a building sense of excitement in my bones. Like the calm before the storm, or the sudden dip of water in the beach before a tsunami. A twist of my will and I found myself airborne, rising directly above the church as the ground below me grew smaller and smaller.

I knew I was more powerful in this form, the frailties of humanity stripped away until only the burning ideal remained. Despite that, I was uncertain exactly how powerful I was in the context of this war. Certainly I could put my old butcheries to shame, burn Fuyuki a hundred times more thoroughly by myself than I'd done when leading Imperial forces in Arene. But that was all useless noise wasn't it? If I fought against the best of the best in all the history of all the world, then I could not presume my opponent would be so easy to put down.

As such, more than just a rescue operation, this was an opportunity. A way to test myself, figure out where I stood among the other competitors of this war. It wasn't so serious a situation that I had to pull out everything I had, but neither was this a situation I could negligently shrug off. An interesting balancing act, of doing everything I can and keeping as much as I can secret. I couldn't inform Galliasta about this, at least not until after the fact. His plan had involved me keeping to the shadows, and while certainly useful, I knew that the man would be more than willing to sacrifice one of my men for any information we could get on this Servant. A reasonable enough response, just one I wasn't willing to commit to.

I stopped my ascent, the city of Fuyuki laid out far below me. I reached out into the city, feeling the pinpricks of awareness scattered throughout the city. The pieces of my power I'd left within the Tresillo. That awareness reached out into Miyama Town as dozens of the mercenaries converged, and that singular, almost panicked, mote of light that represented Isabel running about in fear. I couldn't see the enemy Servant at this point, but that wasn't necessary. I could use the Tresillo as reference.

I was more powerful in this form, but as I understood very quickly while I'd still been alive, power wasn't always enough. As the technology had adapted, so too did the strategies and tactics available to my Mage Corps. In a world shaped by aerial superiority, mages were no longer the end all and be all of power. Operating in a hostile air space with impunity as I and 203rd had done decades past was not only no longer viable, but exceedingly dangerous. To be exposed to radar and magic scanners and anti-aircraft munitions and a dozen other burgeoning technology designed to kick mages off their perch as kings of the sky was simply exposing oneself to unnecessary risk. It was part of the reason I'd directed my mages into operating on a more measured, subtle, role. One could not be shot down by anti-air munitions when one never took to the air in the first place.

Nonetheless, there were times when one had no choice but to take to the air. Perhaps the immediate area around you was suffused in napalm, perhaps one needed a bird's eye view of the surrounding area and perhaps, as with my case, one simply needed to move very quickly to another location. I'd developed maneuvers to take advantage of the new technology and the extensive training I'd given my Corps with the understanding that doing so above foreign airspace would be the equivalent of lighting oneself on fire as the enemy searched for you with thermal cameras. Despite that, I was aware that there were times wherein one had no choice but to 'go loud', and as such I'd prepared my Corps thoroughly for it. It was never meant as a first resort, the better to keep the secrecy of their true capabilities under wraps, but I did not leave my forces defenseless either.

It wasn't about speed you see. A modern military mage could traverse through the skies at supersonic speeds should we wish. It wasn't about power either, the progress we had made with computation devices had meant that as long as someone was capable of piloting the machines in the first place they would have ample energy. The point, the one I had ground into their heads, was control. It was about taking that energy, focusing one's effort and imposing your will upon the world. It was about turning one's mind to metal and wheels, to carry out the maximal outcome with the minimal effort. With the proper application of control an average mage could accomplish far in excess of what they normally could without it.

And I was far, far, above a regular mage now. If my magical signature still held up as it did in life, this little maneuver was going to light up every magic sensor in the country. I could only hope that however it was the Church was keeping things under wrap, they could handle it.

I waited for a moment, my eyes closed, feeling for the moment as Isabel ran for her life. Waiting until they were indoors, where the enemy Servant's movements were limited, where he wouldn't be able to move away in time-

There.

In my mind's eye I breathed in, my magical energy suffusing into a single point between my collarbones. The air was thick with tension, of untapped power waiting to be released.

I breathed out, taking a single step.

The world shreds itself around me as my will is made manifest upon the world. From a distance there is the sight of azure lightning sprinting through the heavens, a sheer imposition of my will upon reality, the world distorting at my command. The lightning bolt cuts into the night sky, the grace of a falling star with none of its gentleness. A second later, the sound of thunder echoes across Fuyuki City as windows shatter and phones crack upon my path.

I open my eyes and I find myself high above a traditional looking akinese house. Behind me, the clouds that had been in my way lay scattered out into the wind. Beneath me, I could sense Isabel still running from another presence that tasted of rust and blood. I spared a moment of attention to Isabel, telling her to run, to seek cover, before I dismissed her from my thoughts.

"Only the Chosen may enter my Garden."

My words echo across the night sky, reality twisting again to my will as my jacket moved in the breeze. Weapons formed in the air around me, old, long defunct armaments decades old, a ghostly cerulean as they formed up into a cluster behind me. I knew from afar most would see only the more concrete visualization of the weapons themselves. If a magi were to see it, they would likely assume I'd summoned them out of thin air, which as far as magic goes was fairly reasonable.

I spared a glance to them, familiar, faint, outlines visible only to me. Standing by me, loyal to me, even now.

I would give myself sixty seconds. Sixty seconds to fight this Servant, gain what knowledge I could from this fight, and see where I measured up. Sixty seconds, no more, no less.

With a twitch of my will, they opened fire, and the house below me exploded into an azure conflagration.


	11. 2.1

**2.1**

I wasn't entirely sure why my spells were blue.

Well strictly speaking it was more of a light blueish tinge, but the fact remains that I didn't know why my power manifested in such a way. I knew the origin of it of course, it resembled the magical discharge of the Elenium Arms type computation orbs that the Empire's mages had been armed with in the first war. Rather uncannily actually, I imagine that if I compared the hue of my power now and the energy generated by the Elenium Type 95 and its successor orbs, they'd look exactly the same.

Of course, that shouldn't be possible in the first place. During those early days, Elenium Orb magical discharge had originated from the relative primitivity and inefficiency of production at the time. Advanced though it may have been at the time, what with heralding the age of practical dual core design, it was still based on a limited technological foundation from the age of fossil fuels and correspondingly crude methods. The Elenium Blue had been an unfortunate consequence of those limitations, the result of inefficient design that bled magical energy into the atmosphere rather than be recycled back into the device or to achieve some other more useful purpose.

The earliest spells available to a mage would have been something as simple as enchantment, and even at a casual glance you could see the inefficiency of those munitions by taking a look at any battle recording at the time. If one thought about it for more than a few minutes, one would have had to ask whether such a simple enchantment necessitated turning the night sky into a rave party. With the benefit of hindsight and decades of advancement behind me, I couldn't help but cringe at the sight of it all even as it brought a small twinge of nostalgia. The Elenium Blue had persisted in our designs for decades more, partially as a result of those same inefficiencies and some cultural nonsense about the color's importance to OZEV's foundations. Modern computation devices were still inefficient, but only the very bleeding edge of the technology could manage to force the magical discharge outside the visible spectrum of light. Granted it applied only to the most negligible of spells at this point, but the fact it was possible was certainly encouraging. The fact that bleeding edge computation technology meant Germanian technology went without saying, of course.

Considering all that, there was no reason that my spells and abilities would retain that same Elenium Blue tinging damn near every one of my spells. It's not like I was even using my orb, there was no logical basis for the hue, merely this thaumaturgical nonsense bleeding through into my magic. The only reason for this ridiculous back step into the forties would be due to some consequence of my own legend for some damn fool reason. Perhaps thaumaturgy simply had a love for nice, bright, colors? Symbolism was important for this branch of magic after all, and if Lancer and this new Servant was anything to go by primary colors were the expected form of dress. Perhaps if I wore light blue my magic would experience an upgrade?

I shook the silly thought aside as I glanced down at the burning house. The nature of my magic seemed to have taken over the more mundane flames my spells would have inspired, and the entire house burned with my hue. If I was inclined towards inane flights of fancy, I could have reassured myself with the thought that my erstwhile opponent had truly been taken by surprise at my bombardment and been torn apart in the initial blast. Foolishly, I even allowed myself to consider it beyond a stray thought, and I observed a curious blend of relief and disappointment trickling into my veins.

Then a burst of magic from within the burning building, a sudden flare of danger, and I couldn't help but smile.

Slivers of steel burst out of the burning wreckage, the sheer velocity of the projectiles more in line with something out of a ballistic weapon than any human effort. They zeroed in on my position, the Servant somehow predicting where I'd be, and old instincts suggested a possible course of action. Moments before the blades would have struck home and bisect me across the waist I move slightly to the side, the magic flaring in my bones as I move just quickly enough to avoid the projectiles. They bleed into the sky, screaming in the dark, and I note some kind of movement from the rubble. I couldn't quite see what had caused it, but I didn't really need to either.

With a twitch of my will the rubble was gone, shattered into molten rock as the figure in red moved past. He moved quickly, though that itself was a given amongst our kind, but more important than that he moved intelligently. His path led him through portions of the house that had survived my bombardment, maximizing his ease of movement while minimizing my ability to track said movements. Azure flames swept through the house leaving only molten glass and ash in its wake as the Servant skipped through it all with minimal fuss, appearing briefly amongst the smoke and flame before vanishing into the smoke once more. It was difficult to parse through his movements, but it didn't take long for me to conclude that despite the pointlessness of choosing to fight here that he had no intention of leaving. Granted, he may have paid attention to my sudden approach and noted that he wouldn't be able to outrun me, but raw speed alone wasn't the only consideration here. We were in a residential area, it would be child's play to retreat through obviously occupied households and turn the environment against me. In such a position it would be difficult to leverage my firepower without incurring civilian casualties, and I couldn't help but imagine that the overarching directive to preserve the war's secrecy had little to do with firebombing a residential area.

Well, firebombing a residential area more than once anyway. The first house was a necessary casualty and I was fairly certain it'd been empty of civilians in the first place. Galliasta could fit the bill for any necessary reparations anyway.

A glint of silver shone in the darkness, reflecting the cerulean fire below and arching over the rubble like some murderous boomerang bent on taking my head. I sunk closer to the ground, the blade whipping up above me before some deeply carved instinct warned me to look down. There, barely visible in the shadow and smoke, was a similar blade of dark steel rising up to bisect me across the waist. I blinked, the guns around me firing in unison, and the blade veered off course as my explosions threw it off its flight path. It disappeared into the darkness and my eyes scanned the ground below, waiting for the Servant's next move.

Battles between Servants were a considerably more tactical affair than one would reasonably expect. One would imagine that casually bringing forth the firepower of a mage company at the speed of thought would turn any consideration for tactical complexity into so much toilet paper. In fact, if I'd been fighting against regular people it almost certainly would, but against others of my kind such tactical consideration was downright necessary. The nature of our class restrictions meant that while our strengths in certain categories were at their peak, it opened potential weaknesses in other areas as well. The melee excellence of a Saber could be worn down by the pinpoint accuracy of an Archer, the ranged safety of an Archer could be bypassed by the speed of a Lancer, the fragility of a Lancer could be taken advantaged of by the strength of a Saber. On and on it went, the specific parameters subject to change by an individual Heroic Spirit's particular attributes, but the general theme remained the same. It was why identifying class containers was so important, one dare not enter a battle with the odds so heavily tilted against you after all.

As such, my opposition was doing what I would have done in his situation, prodding and poking until more information could be gained. Yes, these prods would have killed me if I were incompetent, but their primary purpose was in determining what I could and could not do. I'd intended for my first strike to force him out into the open, to be drawn into my tempo and run out guns, or swords, blazing. As it currently stood he refused to be baited, instead committing to a more drawn out strategy of testing my capabilities. It wasn't as though he would be afraid of acting aggressively, his thoroughness in hunting Isabel down had indicated a propensity for aggressive behavior that could also be cooled with restraint when necessary. A problematic temperament, one without obvious weaknesses to exploit, and further cemented the nature of his probing attacks. Like me, he wanted to know more about his opposition before he could commit further, and I couldn't help but respect that level of caution. It was always a pleasure watching a fellow professional at work after all, even when working at cross purposes.

Nonetheless, I was uninterested in playing his game. I raised my hand, and the figures around me twitched at my command. A barrage of cerulean bolts fell from the sky, the staccato of thunderous gods echoing across the night, shredding wood and metal with equal ease and unloading their magical payload into burning hot shrapnel once they'd hit their target. Judging by the speed with which he moved around the house, it was debatable that he'd have the durability to outlast the assault, but even if he did it hardly mattered. If he fled the house then it displayed that a degree of fragility that could be exploited while at the same time denying his little game of hide and seek. If he stayed, then it meant he was more durable than I'd given him credit for, but that I could take my time flushing him out of the burning house at my leisure.

Despite that, he stayed within the house for a surprising length of time, and I'd carved the house into manageable blocks by the time he made his move. My expectation would have been for him to enact some form of organized retreat, running into the residential area while taking potshots at me, limiting my ability to act in the process. It would have been in keeping with his behavior so far, allowing him to facilitate more chances in determining my weaknesses while keeping himself as safe as possible.

Instead, the damned fool rushed out of the building blades in hand, repeating the same maneuver of throwing those blasted things at me again. I chose to be economical, dodging the projectiles and watching as the Servant generated another set in his hands. He jumped up, insanely fast, impossibly high, running through collapsing architecture just fast enough to escape the collapse in an effort to close the distance to me. I decided not to make it easy for him, and the ground around him exploded in cerulean fire as the very foundations crumpled underneath my barrage. With the awareness that I was his primary target, identifying likely paths for him to take as he closed the distance was easier than it could have been, and I preempted any possible route via the generous use of explosions. Despite this barrage the Servant endured, slipping through the flames moments before they would have caught him, possessed of a speed and ferocity that left me both impressed and rather envious.

This was the nature of class containers after all. His speed and tactical strikes could have him equally within the purview of a Rider, Assassin or Archer, but regardless of what he actually was he would likely outpace me on average. I was a Caster after all, and my role was typically relegated to that of a support, the conventional strategy dictating a more defensive posture. Oftentimes those of my class enjoyed strategically relevant abilities denied to the others in exchange for a distinctly reduced ability to match the opposition in combat. Ultimately my own physical capabilities were weaker in this form than if I'd been summoned in some other container, which certainly made battles a more different kind of interesting than I was used to.

The man in red jumped, his strength propelling him through the air like a supersonic missile aimed for my throat. A pale white blade shone in the snowy moonlight, contrasting with its sister blade's midnight hue. A visage of one of my men appeared in his path, his rifle held as though to block the blades. The weapon shattered as the blades made contact, the Servant running through the visage as though he weren't there, the body dissipating into smog and ash as it joined the inferno. Nonetheless this was enough to momentarily arrest his momentum, the blades falling short of touching my throat. Still he tried to get at me, throwing the midnight blade downward with such force that it buffeted him upwards, scattering the smoke and ash around us to reveal a silver blade raised high with both hands.

There was a horrid screech, the sound of metal rasping against metal, and the Servant passed me as he dropped down into the dirty snow. My shield pulsed with a citrine hue, an ugly red dash just above my head where the Servant's blow had been repulsed and I watched carefully as he settled down unto the snow with surprising grace. The guns around me shift, spreading out into a spherical formation around him before blessing the ground with azure fire once more. The snow evaporated in an instant, each crack of my guns gouging out the earth with pure kinetic energy as I remade the world into scorched earth and burnt shrapnel.

The Servant never stopped moving. He was aware of his disadvantage, that a single second standing could mean the difference between life and death, and so he moved at a constant pace just fast enough to dodge the gunfire. Each step he took heralded a burst of gunfire he only just managed to escape and I couldn't help but admire the skill he portrayed so effortlessly. He was fast, exponentially faster than what a conventional mage could accomplish, but if that was the only skill he had he'd be dead by now. He had experience on his side, the understanding of the mechanics and tempo of a war-torn battlefield, and he used that experience to manipulate his surroundings and narrow the odds in his favor.

A nearby wall was a resource to be used, both as momentary cover and as a smoke screen to shroud his movements as rock shattered into dust. Burning debris from the house could be used in a variety of ways, ranging from momentary cover to temporary projectiles sent in the path of my bullets. Even the contrast between the burning flames and the night sky was used as a momentary distraction, though at some point he realized I had some means to ignore such paltry distractions and abandoned it halfway through. Noxious fumes enveloped the property, obscuring some of our actions in the smoke as I tracked him with my ocular augmentations. I was uncertain if he had something of the same to follow me with, but I concluded that it ultimately didn't matter. I briefly noted that Isabel was somehow still on the property, taking cover somewhere, but I dismissed her from my thoughts. Her presence here was a distraction, one that could cost me, and helping her would doom us both.

Nonetheless, one need not be well versed in combat to see that we were at something of a stalemate. It was clear by now that the opposition had no ability to fly, and as a result couldn't very well tackle me in mid-air and stab me to death that way. At the same time, he was too canny and too quick to be brought down by indiscriminate firepower. Blades would erupt from the smoke only to be shot down, my visages would sweep across the battlefield only for him to dance through their fire and the cycle would repeat ad infinitum. Or at the very least it would, if given enough time. It's not as though we were human, we would be able to endure past the limit of conventional mortal limitations with minimal difficulty. Despite that, I imagine that neither I nor my opponent would be particularly inclined to keep this battle up throughout the night. The longer we fought, the more attention we attract, and the more attention we gathered, the likelier some of the other combatants in the war would begin to take notice of us. Neither of us were interested in showing off our capabilities to the enemy, so we would both seek a way to end this fight as quickly as we possibly could.

Thankfully, a means to do just that fell into my lap.

From the very limits of my awareness I noted a new presence entering the battlefield. Through the eyes of my visages I saw a woman in red. She looked vaguely familiar for a reason I couldn't quite recall, but with her appearance on the battlefield I noted the Servant slow for a split second. It wasn't particularly long, it wasn't even something that could be leveraged into a proper advantage, but his reaction was reason enough for me to make my move. I breathed, magic sinking into my bones once more as cerulean lightning heralded my path. A moment later I was gone, the magic heralding my path through burning wood and melting stone until I exploded through the walls separating the household from the street.

The strangely familiar girl was before me again, eyes wide as she wore some black and red ensemble even I had to concede was quite cute on her. Her eyes widened as I raised a pistol at her face, her hands rushing to her pockets-

"Sorry." I shrugged apologetically, before squeezing the trigger and firing on her at point blank range.

The gunshot echoed across the night, a surprisingly gentle sound compared to the ruckus that was the clash of steel and bombardment behind me. The first bullet left the barrel, passing a hairbreadth away from her cheek and destroying the wall behind her. I didn't pay any attention to that though; my eyes were plastered straight towards the black-haired girl. There was a momentary glimpse of panic in her eyes, the typical reaction of a girl in fear for her life, before something much more novel blossomed in them. A coldness that abandoned the fear, a more analytical gaze that studied the barrel of my gun bereft of anxiety or emotion. Her lips moved quickly, murmured words of what could have been Germanian hissing through her teeth as her hands pulled something out of her pockets.

I sighed internally, relieved, and pulled the trigger. This one would have blown her skull inside and out, but before it could land anywhere near her head a crystalline shell erupted between the two of us. The emerald shield thrummed with power as the cerulean beam shattered against it, and so I gently threw the sidearm at her instead. Manifested as it was by my magic, I had it explode on contact with the emerald shield, the sheer force of the magical backlash sending her straight into the nearby wall. The emerald tinge of magic dissipated, shards of some crystalline substance on the ground as I walked forward. The road wasn't particularly well lit, but the azure flames behind me cast a rather pretty glow to the surrounding area.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not all that surprisingly, the girl was still alive. At least judging by the pained groans and flailing about in the dust that she was currently busy with. I lazily generated more munitions behind me, the weapons aimed straight at the girl, and waited for a heartbeat before firing.

The Servant in Red arrived just in time, comically large blades appearing from the heavens to serve as a barricade for his Master and taking the blows moments before they would have incinerated the girl. The blades held, my bullets shattering and leaving sharp dents against the steel, even as the Servant attacked me with a fervor that hadn't been present before. His blades were blindingly fast as he stuck close to me, denying me any opportunity to establish distance. Any momentary lapse in concentration would be punished by a brutal death, and he certainly wasn't about to allow me to fly off again. His blades kissed the surface of my shield, drawing angry red marks against its surface. My visages continued to fire, but even what control I had over the power of my munitions meant very little in the chaos of a close-quarter melee.

I switched tactics, my visages turning towards the girl and opening fire on her location. The Servant's eye went wide, and I took advantage of his momentary distraction to manifest my power in a space right between the two of us. An azure conflagration roared to life, licking harmlessly against the surface of my shield even as it singed my opposition. I race up into the sky, climbing several dozen meters in the span of a few seconds and took stock.

"Sweeper One, status?"

It took a few moments before Isabel responded, her voice strained. "Pinned down on property. Fifteen degrees due west of you. Have a civilian with me, adolescent, extraction difficult with him in tow."

There was a brief tumult after she'd spoken, an unfamiliar voice I could only imagine was the kid, and I considered my Master's insistence on removing all civilian witnesses. It made sense within the context of the rules of course, but I doubted I could get away with it right this instant. I doubted that Isabel would have reacted well to an order to execute the boy. 'Acknowledged. Lanza, Cutter, are you operational?'

The gap between my request and their response was longer than Isabel's, and I found myself staring impatiently into the smoke as I sensed for the opposition's presence. I was fairly certain that he was by his Master's side, though what exactly he planned to do now was less certain. Eventually Lanza One responded, a cautious tilt to his voice. "...yes, Overwatch?"

'I want Lanza and Cutter ready to move at my say so. Cutter is to move in quick, retrieve Sweeper One and retreat with all speed. Lanza, I want your eyes on grid and tell me if anything or anyone has entered our combat space. The man with the swords is labeled Red One, the girl with him Red Two. You will maintain distance and are not to engage until absolutely necessary. Avoid Red One at all costs, observe Red Two at all times and should they be separated I want you to take her."

A quiet voice echoed from the comms, Cutter One. "Lethal?"

"No." I said firmly. "Not for this one. Capture her alive if you can."

The nature of this war was one that favored long term goals and benefits, as such any strategy moving forward had to take that consideration in mind. I hadn't known, not with a hundred percent certainty, that the girl was an enemy Master, hence my deliberate miss to gauge her reaction. However, now that it was clear the enemy Servant was protecting her, the fact that she was a Master was almost certain. It would be tempting to think that I could simply kill her here and now, but the fact of the matter is that would have been a recklessly dangerous maneuver to commit to.

Undoubtedly the enemy Masters had eyes throughout the city, and even if they wouldn't exactly see my capabilities, the fact that I had eliminated my opposition by ruthlessly murdering another Master would be like putting a sign at my back begging for them to hunt me first. It was one thing to intellectually understand that their lives were at risk, another thing entirely to see the proof of it by having a young girl splattered into two dimensions all across the street. That I'd been willing to do this so early into the war would have only exacerbated the danger I represented, and even with the measures I'd prepared and put into place I couldn't imagine being able to survive a concentrated attack by multiple Servants. There were other benefits to having a Master captive of course. With their safety in our hands we could force them into an alliance of some sort, though that presupposed her Servant's survival, not exactly a certain thing. Of more immediate use would be what information she had, both in regards to whatever resources she possessed as well as any suspicions she may have about the other Masters.

Then there was the other reason, the one I couldn't tell Galliasta about. With my Master's insanity and overall recklessness, I could only imagine that he was going to die at some point. Whether at the hands of Magus Association kill teams sent to apprehend him or at the hands of a particularly enterprising Master, I couldn't be certain that Galliasta would survive until the end of the war. The girl had proven to be at least somewhat competent, surviving my lazy attempt at an assassination, and so I'm certain that she had at least some promise. At the absolute worst-case scenario, I could forge a new contract with her as a way to continue the fight.

Of course, that presumed her Servant was dead, so I'd need to get a move on with that sooner rather than later.

My eyes glanced back down to the streets below, where I was met with shining arcs of crimson. The explosion echoed across my immediate airspace, and I found my shields and sensors beeping angrily as I cast my sight towards the enemy.

I couldn't help but chuckle, despite the danger of the situation. Whether it was the fact that I'd so easily threatened his Master, or whether he'd simply been ordered to cut loose, it seemed he was no longer content in keeping all his cards to his vest. At least that was my assumption for why he now held a bow, and why the magical sensors around me kept screaming of imminent contact. Slivers of red arched around me as I performed evasive maneuvers, dodging the Servant's, the Archer's, strikes. My visages attempted to strike back, cerulean light birthing conflagration after conflagration, but their attempts were not nearly enough.

The class advantage of an Archer would, of course, be its propensity and mastery of range combat. Engaging him in ranged combat earlier had been doable, back when he'd been pretending to be a swordsman, but now that the cat was out of the bag it was completely pointless engaging him in a shooting match. In the time it took me to fire all my weapons at once, he'd have fired twice as much in that same time frame. His capacity for destruction was possibly not as great as mine, but that hardly mattered when his arrows were so much more precise.

An overwhelming number of munitions with excellent precision equaled a torrent of crimson red overwhelming the world around me. I was fast of course, and whenever he'd drawn a bead on me I'd zoom over to another portion of the battlefield and break his line of sight. Even that was merely a delaying tactic, the Archer remained agile enough to dodge the vast majority of my munitions yet was accurate enough to strike at me when I couldn't do the same to him. Thankfully my shields were sturdy enough to resist his shots, at least for the short term, and I was fairly confident that I could have held out for as long as I needed to. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten a rather integral piece of information.

That magic need not follow the rules of physics was clear enough, but one had to be careful in hypothesizing some limitation to magic where none may exist. The Archer had been throwing swords at me before, and I'd assumed that they were some stance peculiarity of his legend. However, with the insight of his true class his actions were cast into a far more sinister light. A master of ranged combat, using blades, throwing blades, and without the tiresome limits of the laws of physics to constrain him-

There was a moment of realization, of appreciation really, for the patience and foresight needed to set this up before those very same blades had returned from their long arc to impact against my body. They exploded into needle like fragments, shattering at nearly the exact same time and peppering my shields with hundreds of kinetically charged shrapnel. The explosion sent me flying straight to the ground, barreling me through the burning ruin and stone wall with such speed that a regular mage would have been rendered into a pancake on impact. My shield flashed a crimson red, the world around me bathed in its hue, and before I could really even act in time it was too late. Cast in the azure light of the flames, the Archer stood above me, his speed sufficient to close the distance while I'd been distracted. His eyes were cold and steady, the practiced ease of an executioner as he held a blackened blade high above me for a killing blow.

Twenty-five seconds had passed since our battle started, and I couldn't help but feel impressed at what I'd seen. The Archer had immediately recognized the strength I possessed and the weaknesses in his own position. He didn't seem to have the ability to fly as I did, and so lacking a means to close the distance had maneuvered the battlefield to achieve this moment. A snapshot in time, where my wings had been clipped for the briefest of moments so as to allow him the killing blow. He'd studied me just as I studied him, kept his cards in check, up until the final moment needed to remove me. He'd used the native advantage of an Archer, their speed and precision and ability for ranged combat, while shrouding who he was up until the very last moment.

Time seemed to slow as I stared at the Archer, and I wondered for a moment what he saw as he looked at me. The moment passed, the illusion snapped, and the blade came coming down.

The primary role that Casters seem to inhabit was that of glorified support and background operator. Casters, as a general rule, were meant to operate in the shadows, to establish themselves with the use of their thaumaturgy and pursue strategic victory when everyone else in the war were occupied with highly inefficient tactical duels. As such, the general rule for the opposition would be to rush a Caster down as quickly as possible. Those same strategic capabilities that made assaulting a Caster on their home turf to be so suicidal meant that finding one of my kind outside their demesne would be an incalculable gift. More than that actually, it would prompt the Caster's enemies to aggressive action, to take advantage of the Caster's weakness as quickly and ruthlessly as possible.

The Archer probably didn't know I was a Caster, but that hardly mattered for this specific situation. The fact of the matter was that odds were high that I'd eventually find myself in this situation. Of being hunted down by a more martially capable Servant, though such was the eternal risk all Casters faced, and if I had a more conventional skill set I imagine that I would have focused on limiting all possibility of such a disastrous scenario. Hid behind my agents and mercenaries, to be some ephemeral shadow my opposition could not touch, to do all that was necessary to avoid any kind of frontal engagement. It would have been a tiresome, grinding, affair that surrendered any measure of initiative to my enemies and I doubted I would have enjoyed it very much.

Still, I would have done it if it was necessary. Thankfully, my own unique circumstances allowed for the opposite approach.

Archer's blade passed through the air, the shield burning brightly as it shattered into a hundred crimson shards. His blow passed through the crystalized light, the shield offering no resistance as I rose up from my prone position, my body drawing close to his with lightning speed as I grabbed his arm. The Archer was tall, so I had to arrange my grip a moment around his forearm and bicep while the Servant's other hand manifested a blade to cut me in twain. I didn't allow him the chance, and before his new blade could even manifest I channeled my magic through my arms and legs. I braced myself against his body, and before his blow could even begin I jerked my knee up into the Archer's elbow at something resembling the speed of sound.

What were Casters, really? The basic requirement was for them to be capable of magic, but for the vast majority of history what did that really mean? It meant that prior to the early twentieth century they would have been drawn from the magi population, those people that could practice thaumaturgy, and as such the targeted demographic would have been exceedingly smaller than average. The fame necessary for the ascension of a Heroic Spirit clashed wildly with the secrecy necessary for the continued research of magecraft, which meant that those who did ascend fell into two categories. Either they were of such intimidating power and extreme age that secrecy was pointless, or they were too incompetent, too bloodthirsty or too insane to adapt themselves to the secrecy that the magi demanded. Then, regardless of what category they belonged to, they would have all been academics. They would have been scholars, intellectuals and theorists less inclined about the practical execution of their craft than the theoretical.

I was more than a scholar. I had been a soldier, a statesman, a ruler. But more than that? I'd mastered the art of using modern magecraft to kill people when I was thirteen years old.

There was the sound of tendons and ligaments snapping as my knee went through the Servant's arm, the bone dislocating with my strike as the midnight blade fell from his hand. With a twitch of my will I arrested my upward motion, shifting my kinetic energy into a spinning kick meant to take the Archer's head off. Impressively he predicted the move, bringing his bright blade up to his face to block the blow. The blade shattered against the pure kinetic force of my kick, revealing eyes curiously devoid of pain, studying me intently.

I couldn't help myself as I smiled cheekily, a rifle manifesting itself between our bodies and aimed straight up at him. With his position compromised by defending himself from my kick, he was in no position to respond as a magically enhanced 7.95x57mm Mauzer round tore his guts open from point blank range. Those same eyes shifted into a rictus of pain, and I matched his grimace with my own smile as I fired again. The bullet shattered inside his body, my magic burning him from the inside out as the shrapnel scattered inside his body as he coughed up blood.

Archer tried to disengage, but I refused to let go of my prey this close to the finish, twisting his broken arm in an effort to control his movements. It worked to an extent, in that I maintained contact with him, but the next shot from my rifle missed entirely. Undeterred, I ordered my visages to open fire on my position as my hand shifted from his bicep straight to his gut wound, a sharp punch that he managed to block just in time. Explosions bloomed all around us as my knee came up to his gut, the Archer moving to the side to dodge my blow only to be peppered with shell fragments. The rifle between us continued to fire, though what with the Archer's dexterity I'd failed to land the next shot, and so I sent it barreling straight towards him barrel first. He sliced it in half with an upward backhanded swing and a moment later that same blade rushed towards like some pneumatic saw in complete violation of the laws of physics, departing from his hand without so much as a wrist flick and nearly carving out my skull in before I moved out of the way. The blade embedded itself into the ground, and I skipped upward and used the embedded blade as vertical leverage to execute a vicious knee strike to his jaw. He caught my knee with his now empty hand, and a blade manifested itself inches above my thigh before stabbing it deep into my leg. I responded by twisting my body like a top, crunching his broken arm before gracing the side of his head with a kick that would have pulverized the skull of a normal human being. A blade manifested between his broken arm and mine, rushing upwards to cut my hands off, and so I let go right as my foot impacted his skull.

Archer flew an admirable distance into the burning house, his grip on my knee lost as he skidded across the burning wood deeper into the flames. My hands found the blade, some francois falchion, and pulled it out of my leg quickly before floating into the house through the Archer sized hole in the wall. I willed the flames to subside around my location as my eyes settled on the enemy Servant, more guns manifesting themselves around me.

Despite the brutal treatment I'd just given him, Archer still seemed to have no intention of dying just yet. His arm hanged uselessly at his side and blood continued to drip down from his gut wound, the blood falling on what seemed to have been the house's dining area. Neither of his hands held a weapon of any sort at the moment, yet he stood as resolute as one could be, his spare hand pressed against his gut to staunch the bleeding. I fired my guns all at once, more out of an interest to gauge his combat effectiveness, only to raise my brow as an array of blades formed between the two of us. Blades shattered as my bullets impacted against them, scouring the nearby area with shrapnel, yet not a single one passed. I tensed for a moment, waiting for those same blades to come at me, but simply found them maintain a lazy orbit around the entrance. I quirked my brow, crossed my arms and looked at the Archer.

"This seems remarkably out of character." I commented, studying the Archer's expression. It was obvious that he was pained, who wouldn't after nearly getting their intestines gouged out like that, but the way he was studying me was of rather more concern. I didn't quite trust my leg to carry my weight, so I cheated a bit by levitating myself an inch or so above the ground. "Throughout this entire fight you rarely gave me a moment's peace to breathe, and yet here you are with your back against the wall and now you change gears? Seems a bit too late for that, Archer."

The other Servant chuckled, shaking his head. "If I had to be honest, I could say much the same to you. I think this is the first interaction we've had tonight that didn't involve explosions and acts of violence, so much so that I can't help but worry actually. I don't suppose we knew each other in life or anything like that? Considering how aggressively you went after me…well, a man can't help but have his suspicions."

I scoffed. "Well what can you expect? When an enemy Servant attacks another Servant's Master, a less than polite greeting is going to be inevitable wouldn't you say?"

He blinked at that, frowning. "So, the girl…."

I shrugged, offering nothing more. That a Servant would respond with such overwhelming force against another so early in the war with little provocation could be seen to be at least somewhat peculiar, but such strangeness would disappear instantly if one was given the impression that it was done in the defense of her Master. If the Archer was given to believe that Isabel was my Master, it meant that any strategy to neutralize me in the war would be based off of entirely incorrect foundations. This also meant that Isabel would have a massive bullseye on her back, but I was less concerned about that. I could simply have her transferred out of the country and secure her safety, thereby frustrating any attempt to find her. After all, after the experience of being chased down by a Servant, didn't it make sense that one would go to ground and nearly disappear from the war in its entirety?

Of course, this was all operating under the assumption that the Archer would survive today. Nonetheless, I was under no habit of gloating to my enemies and revealing my plans moments before they would die. If my plans were really ever going to be foiled because I was a bit of a blabbermouth I'd eat my hat.

Archer was frowning and absent anything else to do I allowed him his thoughts, though I found it a bit uncomfortable. Not because I was perhaps a rooms-breadth away from a living legend more than capable of extreme violence, but more because of the environment. We were Servants, which meant that a little thing like smoke inhalation would be the last thing to kill us, but somehow it was enough to bring my allergies. It shouldn't be possible of course, I would hardly call a magically enhanced body designed for murder susceptible to the sniffles and yet here I was, wrestling with the urge to sneeze for a few moments before my opposite number spoke.

"You're not what I expected, you know." He sighed. "I've got a feeling that everything about this encounter is wrong. I'm fairly certain you're not the blonde I'm looking for."

I snorted, which did nothing to better my urge to sneeze. Drats. "Yes well, the very first rule of warfare is to expect the unexpected. I'll take that as a compliment though. I've got the greatest of respect for you, and if it means anything I regret that this ridiculous ritual has us at each other's throats. Cooperation is always preferable to contention, if I do say so myself."

Something about my words seemed to disturb him, and his frown deepened. "You know me?"

My hand waved in the air at that. "Hardly, but I know what you represent. The epitome of human achievement and prestige, the best mankind has to offer. How could I not have anything but the greatest respect for you in that case?"

His frown stubbornly refused to budge and I sighed. I obviously wasn't getting to him. "If you'd prefer for me to berate and insult you, I could do that too if you'd like. We're both rather low on time, and if there's nothing else I really do have to get going. Though if it makes you feel any better, I promise to keep your Master safe and sound to the best of my ability. That's a better deal than you're going to get from most, I assure you."

An alliance would be useful in these circumstances, but the risk far outweighed the benefits. The Archer had already shown to have at least some measures to neutralize my ability to fly, and I already have him on the ropes. In a theoretical situation with the Lancer, I was fairly certain I could triumph against him if necessary, but this fight with the Archer had been far too risky. He was too skilled, too much of a counter against my own abilities, to let him live.

There was something sad about that, but I refused to let it affect me.

The Archer's frown smoothed over at this point, and in its place was an amused, slightly chagrined, smile. "I doubt that my Master would be the sort to so placidly accept such conditions, though assuming you managed to kill me she wouldn't exactly be in a position to protest. Still, if you want to give it a try don't let me stop you. But I'd be careful if I were you, she can be rather vicious when she wants to be."

I frowned at that, watching as something changed in his stance, the tension in his body slipping into a relaxed posture that set my skin crawling. A sword formed in his hand, the blades between the two of us stirring, but before I could properly act the transceiver in my ear screeched in alarm.

"Contact!" Isabel yelled, the sound of an explosion outside distracting me. Archer took the moment to set his blades on me, a rain of steel set to skewer me to the wall. My guns fired, the blades shattering into shrapnel as I rushed towards my opponent. The shards of broken steel drew thin rivulets of blood across my exposed skin, but whenever it made contact with my clothes they were safely rebuffed. I rushed through the entryway, my body barreling through where the Archer had been, but he was gone. I checked my surroundings, noting a hole through the building that hadn't been there before, and obliterated the wall in my way before moving forward.

Only my vigilance saved me from the blade coming straight at my throat, my smaller body ducking below the Servant's strike. Despite that the Archer was prepared, using his superior body mass and taking advantage of my off balanced semi crouch to shove me through the ruins of the house and out into the yard.

Once I cleared through the house I had a brief moment to take sight of my surroundings. It had continued to snow in Fuyuki, though the ash and smoke had long since turned that into a black slush that blanketed the area in its filth. To my right side was a small shack of some sort, and I spied Isabel in combat with Archer's Master. She seemed to have gotten the drop on the mercenary, though I imagined that even that would have been insufficient to overpower the Tresillo. Still she was doing remarkably well against her, using rocks as explosives and pushing Isabel back even as the civilian looked on with some degree of concern. My eyes snapped to the fire in front of me, the Archer wounded and not a bit ragged, blades forming around him as he sent them to skewer me like a pig.

I allowed a burst of magic to suffuse through my upper body, sending me upward like a rocket and dodging his blades in the nick of time. I manifested a rifle in midair, grabbing at the thing and twisting my body to keep the Archer in my sights. Around me, I reorganized my visages to fire on the Servant at my signal, a killing box that would envelop him in azure flames. I absentmindedly noticed him aiming his upstretched palm at me, eyes filled with concentration as I imagined him readying another strike.

We held there for a moment, a snapshot in time as we stared at one another, eyes focused intensely on the kill.

Then, something changed. A shift in the world, an upsetting of the balance, and both our eyes widened at the realization of something amiss before turning our eyes to the shack.

Light erupted from the ramshackle thing, a mystic phenomenon too bright for conventional technology and too visible to be in the mundane spectrum. Hauntingly familiar, it infected everything it touched with an ethereal, too pure, blanket of white that briefly scoured everything it touched and rankled at my very soul. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, that far away luminescence that I'd seen at the end of my days, and even though we were both surprised by its appearance I was certain that the Archer knew that light just as much as I did. The light from the Throne of Heroes, that faraway place that held all of mankind's greatest. There was only one reason such a light could appear here.

The Seventh had arrived.

But even as the thought occurred to me, the light curdled and spoiled. It shivered and darkened, turning into a malign crimson that bathed the property in its glow. Even my flames shrank back in response, the expulsion of magical energy breaking threatening to overwhelm the flames. Absentmindedly I heard my Tresillo chatter amongst themselves, some debating whether to move forward, others discussing the merits of running. What parts of my mind weren't being distracted by the sight of the Seventh's Arrival couldn't help but chuckle at their panic. If they'd had any sense left in their heads, they should have run screaming from this place and never looked back.

Soon enough the light subsided, the crimson fading away leaving behind a miasma of shadow that sent chills up my arm. The shack had not suffered the recent bombardment well, and entire sections of the wall had been shattered open as a consequence. The gaps allowed me a glimpse into the shack, past the two women frozen in time, their fight forgotten, past the red headed boy lying on the floor with red sigils upon his hand and onto the Seventh.

It was a woman, that much was clear. She wore black armor in an unconventional pattern, not full plate like one would expect but strategically placed around her body in combination with some kind of black dress. Her blonde hair was put up into a neat bun, revealing a pale face that seemed to face the red headed boy. A metal visor was kept over her eyes and while common sense dictated that it should have kept her blind, something deep in my gut told me she could see just as easily as I could.

Whatever the Saber was looking for in her new Master, she seemed to have found it. Turning away from him, she turned towards the entrance and glanced towards the two women near paralyzed at the sight of her. Then her gaze jerked upwards, staring straight at me, and I felt her attention focus draw to a laser point upon my presence.

My gaze jerked over to the burning house, only to find that Archer had done the smart thing and disappeared while I wasn't looking.

A black blade with crimson runes etched onto the metal formed in her hands. At her touch the blade burned with unholy power, illuminating the courtyard in black and red flame. The cerulean flames torching the house died at its presence and the woman in black held the blade to her side before jumping straight at me.


	12. 2.2

**2.2**

The ground cracked beneath the Seventh as Saber propelled herself up into the air, a move so sudden and infused with power that I noted a vortex whip away at Isabel and the two Masters, snow and ash scattering in her wake. The searing light of her blade cast the property in a malevolent glow, the weapon awash in a strange crimson flame that I was absolutely certain I didn't want anywhere near me. Unexpectedly, her jump took her high enough to actually level out with me despite my distance from her, and I noted that absent any move on my part her trajectory would have had me tackled to the ground assuming her sword hadn't found purchase in my neck by that point.

My magic flared within me as I whisked away, arriving at a healthy distance several meters to the side as I watched her pass me by, the Saber's empty gaze upon me the entire time. She seemed unconcerned with having missed me, her form impacting the ground like an artillery shell as her boots gouged out twin ravines in her wake. The Saber twirled her blade, a simple motion suffused with power, before turning her blade on me. There was a momentary pause, an unnatural silence falling over the battlefield, before the Saber enforced her will and the crimson flame erupted into an inferno. Snow melted around her before vaporizing in the absurd heat, as she manipulated her blade and brought a brutal looking upward swing of her blade aimed squarely at me. I wasn't certain whether the heat had been sufficient for her to manipulate the aftermath or whether it was some manner of ability she had, but at her strike a gust of wind arced out from where she stood. The wind cut through the dirt and snow like some tropical typhoon, more force of nature than applied thaumaturgy, and I found myself blinking upwards to avoid her strike.

Her wind impacted the house, choking the life out of the flames that still remained and scattering the ash and cinder a hundred meters out into the rest of Miyama Town like some pyroclastic flow. With a twist of my will, my visages opened fire on the Saber, using the aftermath of so much swept up ash as cover as cerulean beams braved the miasma around her and turned into a blazing conflagration on impact. My flames consumed everything around her, turning the ground into a smoking cinder, but even that was only for the briefest of moments. Seconds later, I could feel my magic fizzle and die as the swordswoman passed through the flames unscathed, not a single inch of her rather tasteful dress harmed by my flames.

There was shouting by the shack, an argument of some sort, though I wasn't entirely clear on what was being said. The Saber didn't seem to pay the words much mind either, the power in her blade burning brightly as she jumped. I was sufficiently high from the ground at this point that I couldn't imagine her reaching me even with her strength, but once in mid air my eyes widened as I saw her twist in the air. Positioning the blade behind her, and with her gaze directly on me, I watched as her flames went wild and the wind buffeted her upwards. The Saber did not fly so much as she was shot forward, her armored form racing towards me as her visor glinted a dark silver in the moonlight.

I knew better than to try to match her and so I flew down at an acute angle, moving below and farther away from her as she raced upward like some primitive rocket. The Saber seemed unperturbed by my evasion, and the moment I passed by her I noted her repositioning her blade once more. There was a sudden absence of light, the crimson flame dying for a brief moment before a resurgence of heat and flame as she adjusted her momentum into a sharp arc, her new bearing accurately aimed directly at me once more.

Credit where credit was due, I was impressed. The Saber wasn't very fast, but what she lacked in speed she made up for in sheer power. She did not have the pure utilitarian grace that the Archer had displayed, instead appearing more like an unstoppable juggernaut that would crush all in her path. I had to imagine that the amount of energy necessary to lift the ground was immense especially considering the chaos she left in her wake. The air behind her rippled with magic, the wind razor sharp as it cut through the air to lift its master towards me. A casual observation on the ground, where she'd first jumped to catch me revealed gouged mud and scratched rock, as though a horde of beasts had trampled the area in the Saber's path. Her movements were slow enough for me to dodge out of the way, but I knew that a misstep wasn't likely to end well. I had no intention of flying in the wake of her violent airstreams unless absolutely necessary and even then, it was likely to be a bumpy ride.

The Saber passed by me once again, her figure disturbingly close enough that I got a good look at her blade as she swung it towards me. The horizontal strike of her weapon bloomed into hellfire, the black and red conflagration burning the air meters ahead of it. I dodged upward, twirling in midair such that the ground was now the sky, allowing me to study the strange runes etched onto the blade. Unfortunately, I didn't really study into something as inane as runic symbology while I'd lived, so the meaning of the runes completely escaped me. Nonetheless, I knew better than to shoulder the burden all on my own, so I mentally took pictures of the blade to show to Galliasta later. Mad though he was, he'd probably have better odds identifying the weapon than I did.

Identification was important after all. Whoever this Servant was, she was brutally powerful, and it was obvious that the direct approach wouldn't be sufficient to handle her like it did for the Archer. If we figured out who she was, it'd make discovering her weakness that much easier, though at the top of my head I couldn't imagine a Hero quite like this one. Her armor looked distinctly European and the only swordswoman I can think of is perhaps the Maid of Orleans, though I imagine Jeanne of Arc didn't look quite so…. morally dubious.

Saber fell to the ground, the concrete breaking on impact and expelling a small cloud of dust that joined the boiling miasma around her. I took the opportunity to fire on her again, a coordinated strike that involved a few dozen assorted rifles, explosives and the like to strike her all at once. The conflagration engulfed the entire street we were on, lighting up everything in an azure light for a brief moment, incinerating pavement and melting asphalt. I could only imagine the level of damage my munitions could inflict on a normal human, though thankfully I haven't had a real need to do so thus far.

Not that I'd accomplished anything with my little maneuver against her anyway. Saber waded through my flames, putting one to mind of an elephant crossing a river, imposing and implacable. Crimson flame ignited all across the length of her blade, my own magic dying in response to the blade's own. It didn't take long until my conflagration had ceased, Saber's power made manifest, before she dismissed her power with a twitch of her head and all that remained was the stench of smoke and ash.

This was bad, of course, but extremely informative nonetheless. The Saber class, more than most, has the advantage in enjoying a degree of magic resistance far and above the others. As a result, historically speaking Sabers were something of a natural counter to my class, as evidenced by the fact that my visages couldn't even pierce through her magic resistance. Still, her performance did prompt certain questions. Was the fact that my visages couldn't beat through her defenses an absolute certainty on my part, or was it that I hadn't put enough effort into it? In the right circumstances, with the right tools, with the proper strategy, perhaps it would be possible to take advantage of some chink in her armor and exploit it with overwhelming firepower.

A seductive line of thought, but one that was ultimately useless here. Even if it was true, how was I going to test it without revealing more of my abilities to the world? I was certain that the Archer was still nearby, watching the fight, if for no other reason than that his Master was still on the premises. Even if I unloaded everything I had in some ego filled impulse to lay a scratch on her, what would it achieve in the long run? Further exposure of my secrets most likely, and I could no longer guarantee that we were operating incognito anymore. My minute had almost passed, and I needed to wrap this up one way or another.

Saber made another move, her sword blazing briefly as she slashed downwards at a nearby car. Flames expanded from her strike, licking the car's underbelly for a brief moment before igniting the gas tank, launching the car upwards into the air. The wind picked up around the car, throwing it far and above what would have been realistically possible until it was essentially thrown at me like some projectile. I dodged it handily, shaking my head at the Servant's sheer strength.

No, it was safer and easier to simply operate under the assumption that her defenses couldn't be broken in that way, which meant that unlike the Archer it was likely unwise to engage the Saber in direct confrontation. My mastery over the air meant that I possessed some degree of safety from her attacks, though it also meant that setting my foot on the ground with her active was likely to be an exercise in assisted suicide. I engaged the Archer in close combat because I was fairly certain of managing a calculated reversal against him, doing the same to Saber would be much more foolish.

I looked over to the shack, my eyes sharpening to find the humans engaged in conversation with one another. The red headed boy and the girl in red were in conversation, though perhaps it was more appropriate to call it an argument, and for a moment I'm tempted to listen in on their conversation. It wouldn't be difficult, what with Isabel standing so close to the children, yet I dismissed the temptation regardless. Distraction in combat was never permissible, especially with someone as ornery as this Saber was being.

My comms array spiked into life as I kept my gaze on the Saber. She was watching me in turn, her head inclined upward, staring at me with an unreadable expression as I considered my options and contacted the Tresillo.

"Cutter One, Lanza One, do you copy?"

" _Copy, Overwatc-"_

" _Ma'am, what the hell_ _ **is**_ _that thing?_

Where before their responses had been somewhat strained, there was a degree of mania in their tone that told me more about their mental state than anything else they'd say. At least for Lanza anyway, Cutter's voice remained calm and professional despite the sheer ridiculousness of what was occurring, and I couldn't help but respect that. I made sure to note her for a potential recommendation or pay increase later, talent had to be rewarded after all.

"Listen very carefully, this is important." I noted as I maintained my staring match with the Saber. "Review and apply Directive Martha-Siegfried-Seventeen on outbreak of hostilities. Designate new contact as Dark One, maximum avoidance pattern. Cutter is to apply Directive upon Red Two, Lanza is to apply upon secondary civilian by Sweeper One, coded Red Three. Red Three is to be given preference, exercise maximum prejudice. Sweeper Two?"

There was a moment's pause between the two, before Cutter responded. _"Understood, Overwatch."_

" _Understood, Overwatch."_ Came Lanza's response, a moment later.

"Good. Sweeper is to continue as previous. Prepare for execution, do not commit until hostilities resume."

The convenient thing about the Tresillo operating under cribbed OZEV notes was that it meant communicating my orders to them were greatly expediated. Even a passing familiarity with OZEV guidelines would have shown the long list of offensive patterns and operational parameters I'd written down for my Mage Corps. On the off chance that they weren't as familiar with them as they should be, those directives were baked into the OS on their suits, so they could look it up fairly easily.

I floated down a few meters, not nearly enough that her little jumping trick would be fast enough to catch me, but close enough that I didn't have to shout too loud. My voice echoed out into the night, and I absentmindedly note the teenagers by the shack shutting up. "Good Evening! It's a pleasure to meet you, Saber. Perhaps you would like to have a bit of a chat?"

Predictably the Saber said nothing, merely staring up at me with all the emotion of a marble statue. I sighed. "You're an intelligent woman, obviously you can see that what with the current situation, nothing productive is going to occur. You jump at me, presumably while doing something suitably impressive, and I dodge and I fly away. I shoot at you, doing absolutely nothing by the way, and then you jump at me again. It's pointless for us to fight, as we are at a stalemate, and in types past when two powers cannot defeat another they would resort to negotiation. Let's talk, otherwise all we're really doing is showing off to our enemies, and frankly if that was the case I'd rather not give them a free show."

In response, crimson flames erupted from her blade, the Saber arranging her feet into a more combative stance. I sighed, my gaze shifting to the night sky.

In situations such as this, the typical strategy was fairly straightforward. When a Servant was incapable of beating another, the standard procedure would be to attack their Master. Conceptually speaking I had no problem with this, after all anyone willingly throwing themselves into this war knew what they were getting into, so removing them from the war was as guilt free a kill as you can get in any circumstance. One could theorize that an opponent on the other side of a war could be innocent of nothing more than love of country, but a participant in this war would have understood from the very beginning that he would be killing at least six other people. The moral weight of killing them may as well be nonexistent.

I had a fairly strong suspicion that wasn't the case here. Saber had only just been summoned, she hadn't been brought here by a Command Seal or been revealed as part of some plot. For whatever reason, the Grail had deemed the civilian Isabel had been carrying around as worthy to join the war, which made him a potential target. Saber would have likely realized her Master's naivety as well, which would explain her inability to back down. In the face of a potential threat and an impotent Master, the only option would be to push forward and remove the threat as quickly as possible and deal with the consequences of disobedience later. I could respect that.

Yet at the same time, none of her actions would ameliorate the weakness in her contract with the boy.

The directive I'd given the Tresillo was fairly straightforward in application. In brief, it indicated a priority target of extreme magical capability and an immediate order to apply whatever means necessary to their destruction. It was a fairly obscure directive, one I'd added on a whim on a particularly reflective night and while it never did see much application while I was alive it would serve well enough here.

As soon as combat would resume, the Tresillo would rush forward and do everything in their power to kill the two other Masters. With the Archer wounded from my assault and the Saber preoccupied with me, that would leave both Masters in a vulnerable position I could exploit. Saber's Master would be relatively easy to kill, while sheer numbers would be sufficient to remove Archer's Master even in the event that they had some trick up their sleeve. Ideally, I would have wanted the girl alive, but that just wasn't practical at this point. Archer's disappearance meant that I couldn't separate her from her Servant, and the other Master's death would lead to her distrusting me fairly quickly. I was certain that I couldn't obscure the Tresillo's allegiance to me, and there was no way a Master would trust a Servant that had just killed another Master right in front of her. It would be far too easy to imagine oneself on the other side of such an execution, which meant that trust would be an impossibility. The end result was obvious.

It felt rather heavy to damn two teenagers to death as easily as that, but I really had no choice in the matter. Besides, I'd killed plenty of innocents before, directly or indirectly, what was a few more?

My eyes focused back on the Saber as my visages hovered above her. "Very well." I sighed.

More of that crimson flame erupted out of her sword, blanketing the ground beneath her and casting dark shadows across her face. From a distance, I could feel the arming of weapons and the warm up cycles of nearly two dozen computation devices run to a close. I waited for Saber to jump, to commit to an attack, and once she did-

"Stop!"

Power echoed from those words, a crawling sensation creeping up my spine that left no doubt as to what exactly had occurred. The Saber's sword grew cold, her flames extinguished, and even with the visor over her face I could see the look of absolute murder she was sporting even as her arms and legs strained to obey. I turned, finding the red-haired Master with his hand outstretched, a command seal burning to nothing in his hand.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but stare. The boy, did he really just-

A high, cold, voice cut into the silence and I turned back to the Saber. "You're making a mistake, Master." She snarled, a sub-zero frost infecting her tone, though I couldn't tell if that was reserved for me or the boy. "Release me."

"Just wait a moment uh… miss Saber." The boy said, a complete lack of self-preservation so breathtaking I found myself staring incredulously. "I think we should just calm down and talk things out-"

"There is nothing to talk about." Saber responded evenly, her head tilting to him for a moment before returning to me. "I am a Servant and so is she, our purpose is to fight and kill until only one is left. I will fulfill that function, and deliver the Holy Grail to you. Now, release me."

The boy's confusion only grew, before he seemingly made up his mind and jogged towards the Servant.

He walked past me, well below me, giving me an embarrassed smile like he'd made some sort of social faux pas, which in a way he sort of was. My gaze shifted past him, towards the entrance of the house where Isabel stood like a jittery little school girl cosplaying as a soldier, with the other girl several paces behind her. Archer's Master watched me with a suspicious look, which I suppose was only fair considering I'd been trying to kill her moments before, yet she stood proud and unafraid regardless. My visages remained focused on the Saber, but several turned to mirror my approach, settling in a sort of defensive posture around me. The Master was unimpressed, or at least seemed unimpressed, and I took that as a point in her favor.

I turned back to look at the boy still arguing with his Servant, and I was struck by how young he was. Certainly naïve, if he was really engaging his Servant in a debate like this with a potential enemy before him. Then again, Isabel had picked him up as a civilian, hadn't she? It was certainly possible that he was unaffiliated with the war, that he'd only been dragged in by the Grail seeking its last Master. In which case he'd really have no idea what to do or what was happening, a lost lamb of a participant in an arena of wolves and lions.

I had several options here, most of them mutually exclusive. The first option, and the one my mind immediately jumped to first, was to open fire and kill the boy while his guard was down. The command seal ensured that Saber wouldn't be able to react in time, and from what I could see the boy himself didn't seem particularly dangerous in any appreciable way. The second was to turn on the girl, take advantage of her weakened Servant and the Saber's inability to respond in any way as an opportunity to knock the other Master out of the war. The third, and least appealing, would be to retreat and leave to two to their own devices.

The difficulty in making a decision was that such choices couldn't be taken in a vacuum. If I moved to kill the boy then that would solidify whatever intent the girl would have in believing me an untrustworthy Servant, and even if I killed her Archer I would never have the opportunity to potentially have her as a Master. If I moved to kill the girl, then I would be seen as a ruthless monster to the obviously naïve fool, justifying his Servant's opinion of me and setting her against me when I could have neutralized her diplomatically. This was all assuming I'd succeed in killing one or the other of course, I had to assume a possibility for failure after all and if I failed to silence my chosen target then they could possibly band together to fight me. Neither could I be so arrogant as to believe I could take them both down at once, not with my time limit so thoroughly passed and the potential interference of outsiders. Retreating was even worse, as it left the two Masters to plot against me without my input and merely invited an alliance against me.

My eyes wandered around Miyama Town. Nearby, I could see open lights and the scurrying of civilians as they reacted to the destruction of the house. It wouldn't take them long from then to call the emergency services, bringing government attention as well as Fuyuki's fire brigade. Whatever I would choose, I had to choose quickly.

With a glance towards Saber and her Master, who still seemed to be preoccupied with their little power struggle, I descended. I wasn't so foolish as to go within Saber's stabbing range, but speaking from a literal higher position than the Master wasn't likely to facilitate goodwill. The reaction from my descent was immediate, with Archer's Master going rigid and Saber's head snapping from her master to meet my gaze. I sighed.

"Rest assured Saber, I mean neither you nor your Master any harm." I said. "Quite the opposite in fact. He and my Master were being endangered by Archer, and so I sought to eliminate the threat by any means necessary. I imagine you would have done the same."

Her gaze remained resolute and I imagined the eyes behind her visor to be as cold as the Siberian winter. "No. If I were in your place, Archer would already be dead."

Well, I couldn't fault her for her commitment I suppose. Still, what with the boy being endangered by the Archer, I had an opportunity to pull Saber and her Master into at least a temporary alliance against the Archer. There was no real reason we need be enemies after all, and I ultimately did save his life, it was only natural for him to respond aggressively against someone so set on murdering him not a few seconds ago.

My gaze shifted to her Master, though the look on his face gave me pause. He was staring at me, a gobsmacked look on his face and I returned it with a puzzled look. My expression seemed to snap him out of his astonishment and he gave a nervous laugh.

"Um, thanks for saving me and my friend." The boy said in passable English. His gaze turned to the burning ruin of the nearby house. "Was all that you? That was a lot of firepower…"

His voice trailed off, uncertainty in his voice, which I could understand. I'd been in a similar position to him after all, living a safe, ordinary, life until my path had been irrevocably altered by things so much more powerful than me. I had no intention of being the boy's Being X and ruining his life, so I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

"With a potentially dangerous Servant in the mix half measures would have caused more harm than good. I trusted my Master to keep you alive, and she did, so in an effort to remove the most obviously dangerous thing on the battlefield I elected to pull out all the stops. I would have preferred to minimize collateral damage, but my hands were tied."

The Saber continued to observe me like some predatory animal as the boy's smile grew strained. "Ah, yes. That….that makes sense, I suppose. Well, thanks for saving my life miss."

He seemed to blink, before a moment of panic flared itself upon his face and he bowed slightly. "Ah, my name is Emiya. Emiya, Shirou. It's a pleasure to meet you again, ma'am and thank you for saving me."

I frowned at that. Something about his tone and his word choice gave me the impression that he'd met me before, which certainly wasn't helpful as far as figuring that out could mean. For all I knew, Emiya had seen one of my hundreds of clones doubtlessly crawling throughout the city and mistook her for me. That seemed like the most reasonable cause of his confusion, and I imagine that seeing someone you know fly about and cast magic outside the norm would be a terribly confusing scenario. Nonetheless, something niggled at me at the back of my head about him, and I leaned in closer to study him. He seemed to grow uncomfortable at that, moving a step back, though I floated closer to study him.

A moment later it hit me. He was the waiter before! In the Ildoan pasta place that Galliasta had taken me to. As quickly as the realization came however, it wilted in the cold light of deductive reasoning and basic logic.

What were the odds of that? In a city of hundreds of thousands of people, I'd met this boy twice now over the past few days. More to the point, I'd met him last while I was conversing with my real Master, and had met him again while being chased by a Servant and thereafter summoning his own? A remarkably thin layer of coincidences that wouldn't support a blow fly, nevermind the suspension of disbelief necessary to buy all that as remarkable serendipity rather than the action of a rather conniving enemy. Perhaps I should have had Isabel abandon the boy rather than reveal myself. If this had all been part of a ploy to reveal myself to the opposition then I'd be rather embarrassed.

"Uhm…Miss?"

Nonetheless, it wasn't like I could prove anything at the moment, and any action to neutralize the boy would be worse than useless while in the presence of a murderous Saber. I glanced back at the boy, smiling as I offered him my hand and recalled my pseudonym.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you again Mr. Emiya. My name is Mar-"

"Tanya von Degurechaff, right?"

A feminine voice called out and I turned around to watch as Archer's Master approached, a calm, analytical, look in her eye. My gaze slid over her to the side, as Isabel came trotting up to us, cracked helmet cradled below her arm and a confused look on her face. With a flicker of my attention I disabled whatever communications system was still active in her suit, before turning to the girl with a smile. Isabel's eyes widened at that, and she took a step backwards for whatever reason, though the Master merely looked on without comment.

"Degurechaff? I don't understand, whatever do you mean by that?"

The girl scoffed at that. "Oh please, give me a break. I'm not like Emiya over there, I _do_ have eyes after all. The modern weapons you've been using, the creepy soldier things you've got floating around, your appearance being so similar to her? I thought it was an illusion at first, you using that visage to deceive people into thinking you were her since it was so obvious, but that's not the case is it?"

I said nothing as I continued to smile at her, and she trudged on regardless. "It's a funny thing you know. Europe basically worships the ground you walk on, but not a lot of people take the time to read through everything you've done. They only take the nice, sanitized, view of history: the formation of OZEV, your victory in the Second Great War, the greatest mage of the 20th Century. The thing is they don't really pay attention to all that troublesome darker stuff you got up to huh? Arene, your secret police, your ruthlessness on the battlefield, the Rus Successor Conflict. If you tally it all up, then it makes a lot of sense that you wouldn't care about a thing like collateral damage in trying to hunt down an enemy."

My brow raised up at her words. "My, my, I'm rather surprised. If you're that put out that you failed to summon me little miss then I must apologize. You've certainly gone through a lot of effort to research about me, I'm sorry it all went to waste."

Her reaction was remarkably entertaining, such that I didn't know a human woman could blush so quickly. Regardless she snarled, looking away from me as she did. "A-all research for this war, I assure you. You're popular enough, I'm sure there'd be some idiot trying to summon you, it only makes sense to prepare for all eventualities."

She paused for a moment, before turning to the side and giving Isabel a smile. It seemed a rather approving smile, if not for the latent cold-blooded murder I could feel lurking beneath her rapidly cooling cheeks. "Congratulations on summoning her by the way. She's a strong one, no doubt about it, especially if she could handle my Archer so handily."

In an ideal world, I would have been able to speak with Isabel beforehand, brief her on the deception I'd concocted against Archer and her Master and get her on the same page. As it was, the timing for this conversation was absolutely atrocious, much to the girl's credit. Perhaps antagonizing her wasn't the wisest option, but it seemed that she was taking it out on Isabel now, trying to gauge her mettle and figure out more about her. What with her not having an inkling about the war, I could only imagine the reaction she'd get out of her. I turned my gaze to Isabel and as I was about to bail her out I was taken aback by what I saw.

I'd expected confusion of course, shock and the like, but even that seemed out of order from what I was seeing. Isabel was doing her solid best at acting like some suffocating fish in the middle of an aneurysm, here mouth agape, her eyes staring straight ahead at me as the grip on her helmet slacked and it fell to the pavement. If I had to be honest, I was becoming fairly certain that she was having a stroke, and only a discreet check into her vitals showed otherwise. Yes, her body was spiking with adrenaline and her heart rate was approaching that of a full-blown sprint, but no stroke as of yet.

The girl had noted Isabel's reaction and had seemingly taken interest, a shark-like instinct pushing her curiosity further. "Oh, I'm sorry, perhaps you didn't know? Or was she keeping her identity a secret from you? I completely understand, some Servants can be rather irritating about that. Still I'm sure you had your suspicions no? I mean, just look at her."

I matched Isabel's gaze, her dark panicking eyes meeting my calm blue ones, before I spoke. "You're being rather friendly, considering that your Servant was on something of a murder spree wouldn't you say little miss? Of course, I understand the benefit of deflecting attention away from yourself, but honestly could you possibly be more transparent."

Beneath the words, I spoke into Isabel's mind, my connection with her devices still allowing a direct connection. _'Say nothing else. Imply nothing. Agree with what I'm saying to her and I will explain later, understand?'_

She didn't say anything, I rather suspected that she was still undergoing something of a mental breakdown for whatever reason, but thankfully I was distracted from having to pursue that conversation any further. The enemy Master puffed up like an aggrieved cat, her gaze ricocheting off Isabel and back to me.

"Murder spree? Now you're just lying." She scoffed. "All my Archer was doing was removing witnesses-"

"Most would say that constitutes a murder spree-"

" _Let me finish!_ " The girl growled and despite her fury she was not at all intimidating. The exact opposite in fact. "He was hunting down the witnesses so I could fix their memory! I don't want to kill anyone anymore than necessary you know."

"Well he could have fooled me." I responded dryly. "I don't know about you, but when an enemy Servant starts throwing blades around, thinking kindly of him and assuming that they're some kind of special non-lethal blades is a step too far in the generous direction wouldn't you say?"

Amusingly, she didn't have an answer for that one, merely glaring at me with irritation. I met her gaze with a smile, my hand supporting my cheek as I sighed. Children these days.

"Um, Tohsaka-san?" Emiya responded in Akinese, presumably in a token effort at privacy. "Maybe it's for the best that everyone calms down? From what you two are saying, it seems like this was all a misunderstanding-"

"Stay out of this, Emiya-kun." The girl replied savagely. "She's an enemy Servant, and that makes her a threat. Hell, why aren't you angrier about it? Out of anyone here you have the right to be the most upset here!"

"Well Saber _did_ start the fight, and her…. friend, was trying to save me in the first place." Emiya shrugged. "From what I can tell she was just trying to save us and if that's the case that means she's probably a good person. Degurechaff-san probably didn't mean any harm."

With that, Tohsaka broke contact with me, staring incredulously at the boy before setting her sights to the burning house. I could understand her confusion, the boy seemed to have a rather naïve way of looking at the world, though it was certainly true that I was trying to save him. I wouldn't say it was for any real altruistic reason though, and I certainly wouldn't call myself a 'good' person.

All that was secondary to what Emiya had actually said though.

Archer's Master was the Tohsaka of this war, another puzzle piece found and assembled together. The second most dangerous of the Three Families, if Galliasta's information was accurate, and one that would be miles away in experience compared to the rest of the war's competitors.

For a moment I considered with what to do with the realization. A part of me recognized her as a dangerous threat and what with my own inclinations I typically dealt with a dangerous threat by blowing them up as thoroughly as possible and deal with the consequences of it all later. It was a brief impulse though, an irrational impulse brought about by my slowly fading battle instincts, and I pushed the urge down into oblivion. It was a self-destructive, foolish, impulse against a magus the like Tohsaka. After all, she wouldn't have walked up to an opposing Servant so casually like this unless she had a backup plan, and I didn't want to give the impression of being seen as treacherous. That and I couldn't help but notice that her own Servant was still lurking around somewhere, presumably they'd had the chance to talk to each other by now, and I wasn't about to walk into any trap they'd prepared so easily.

The knowledge that her Servant was still alive was something to consider as well. He was a formidable one certainly, but with the backing of one of the Three Families he would undoubtedly have the resources and information necessary to capitalize on it. An Archer was suited for long range combat after all, and if there's anything that the history of modern warfare has taught humanity, it's that concentrated long range fire could shatter any foe. My estimation of Archer's danger spiked accordingly, alongside that of his Master.

There was an additional problem in dealing with Tohsaka and her Archer as well. I knew that Galliasta was going to die sooner rather than later, and of the Masters I'd seen so far the Tohsaka girl was an ideal candidate as a replacement. Of course such a girl would not do something as idiotic as have her proven Servant killed for an uncertain one such as myself, so at some point I had to arrange for Archer's removal while keeping the girl alive. Easier said than done, considering the state of the war, and I was fairly certain that the other Families would likely be after each other's head at this point.

Nonetheless, I wasn't blinded by reckless idealization, as long as a Master was alive and their Servant dead I could certainly make due, though I recognized that some options were certainly better than others. The Emiya boy's naivete seemed clear enough to me, though perhaps that was simply a trick to draw others into a false sense of security. It made sense in a way, to get the other combatants to ignore you by dint of dismissal, and work in the background as a consequence. If that were the case I'd have to up my estimation of the boy.

"Um, also a servant? What's that?"

I looked to the boy, turning to Emiya at the same time as Tohsaka did. I imagined that our faces did the talking for us, as he seemed to blush in embarrassment at our look. I turned to the Saber, who was no longer constrained by the boy's Command Spell, and she looked on cold and implacable as before. I sighed, the Saber had my condolences, if nothing else.

I turned to the other Master, her gaze displaying both astonishment and pity.

"Just….wow Emiya-kun, wow." The girl muttered in awe. The boy didn't seem to take that well and I could sense the beginning of an argument brewing, though I cut through that before it could ignite and waste our time.

"It seems to me, that the three of us are at an impasse." I note, grabbing the attention of everyone present. "Neither Saber or I can kill each other due to the nature of our Classes, and Archer is too wounded to meaningfully contribute to one side or the other. I can't kill Emiya-kun because he'd be protected by his servant, same with you Tohsaka-chan. At the same time, you can't kill my Master since both she and I can simply fly far, far, away from all four of you. So-"

I clapped my hands, smiling. "How about we have a chat, the three of us. It only makes sense, a group of three is stronger together than apart, and I can assure you that other groups in the war would have already allied by now. If nothing else, we can discuss terms, and perhaps non-aggression while we deal with the others."

There's a pause for a moment, before Tohsaka smirks, a hand on her waist as she gives me a look. "Ooh? So quick to beg for relief from your opposition, Kaiserin-chan? You didn't strike me as someone so quick to give up."

"If by 'giving up', you mean to insist for me to kill you, then I have no qualms there Miss Tohsaka." I say dryly, and I suppress a smirk as she huffs. I turn to Emiya. "What about you boy?"

He flinches at that. "Ah well, I mean-" He pauses for a moment, turning towards his Servant. "What about you Saber, what do you think?"

It was difficult to get anything from the black swordswoman, her pale face was like a mask in and of itself, and the visor over her eyes made it even more difficult to tell anything from her. Nonetheless I could feel a degree of tension from, like the moment before a thunderstorm trapped in the body of a woman. She turns to Emiya.

"I concede to your judgement, Master. I do not trust her, but if you would have me make peace with her then I can do so for the time being."

Silence fell between the four of us before Emiya chuckled nervously. "Ah, well there you have it ma'am! We'd be happy to talk, though I may need some time to uh, prepare."

His eyes glance over to the house and I shrug. I suppose that was only fair, if I was called into a meeting with two enemy Masters, I wouldn't want to be going in there unprepared. "Good enough for me, I've got my own preparations to deal with."

It was a risk to leave the two Masters alone for a while. The odds of them organizing against me were certainly there, but they could do that regardless whenever I'd have to leave. After all, it's not like I could look over their shoulders for the entirety of the war and if nothing else Emiya seems too much of a baby lamb to do something as treacherous as betray someone. Anything could happen in regards to Tohsaka, but considering the injuries I'd inflicted on her Archer it'd be some time until she was ready to fight me without reservation.

My gaze turned towards Isabel. Besides, it was more important to deal with my own forces at the moment. I was uncertain if they'd sensed the Tresillo yet, they were far enough away that I didn't think they would have visual confirmation of them, but the fact that they had my magical signature essentially evened out the odds. Ideally, they would just assume that the range of my vestiges was just exceptionally large.

I crooked a finger towards Isabel, and while I didn't think it was possible the girl paled even further. I floated off some distance away, taking note that the girl had followed me before I patched in to the rest of the Tresillo.

"Ghost, has anything happened by the Church while we were occupied?"

Laurent's voice responded smoothly into my ears. _"None at the moment. Should we expect company?"_

"Maybe. Keep your eyes open. Sweeper, Cutter, I'm expecting civilian traffic here soon as well as unwanted attention. I don't want you to interefere with any incoming civilian traffic, but I _do_ want you on lookout. You've noted the performances of Red One and Dark One, anyone else that fits that description on their way here needs to be noted as potential hostile and observed as safely as possible? Ghost is to remain where they are, Sweeper is to shadow us at extreme range, Lanza is to remain and observe while Cutter is to withdraw and remain on standby. For the moment we'll stand down on Directive Martha-Siegfried, but that doesn't mean we drop our guard. You are to consider the people with us to remain as potential hostiles for the time being, understood?"

It was understandable that they would have questions. When I'd assessed them before, the sheer disparity in skill and power could have been obscured by better equipment or better training, but my fight with Archer wasn't something I could just shrug off. What they saw defied expectation, defied conventional logic on what exactly magecraft was capable of. Doubts and questions were reasonable, even permissible, but not now. Not yet. I simply didn't have time for any of that and right now I had bigger fish to fry.

I looked at Isabel as the rest of my men gave their responses to varying degrees of professionalism, from Ghost who remained steadfast and quiet for lack of not actually seeing anything that happened out here, to Lanza whose voiced seemed ready to burst with questions. I ignored them all though, and focused on the only one where plausible deniability wouldn't work.

Isabel didn't meet my gaze, her eyes jumping from the ground, to the street, to the house and back again to the ground with all the twitchiness of a caffeinated rabbit. I studied her as she wilted beneath my gaze, her discomfort growing with the silence, and while I hadn't thought it possible her jittering only increased as she found it more and more difficult to stay still. Her suit had sustained some damage, a gash alongside the helmet she was carrying underneath her arm though she dropped it as she moved closer. Her normally stern eyes looked rather panicked now, a look that was magnified by the ash and mud smeared across her suit.

Isabel broke the silence first, her words slipping out like the prelude to a flood. "Sorry your Highne-, uh sorry Overwatch- I mean, sorry ma'am, about this whole mess."

Strictly speaking, maintaining the secrecy of this war was a presumed directive by the overseer of the war, and not an outright command by my Master. Everyone assumed that everyone else would do their best to keep the evidence of the war under wraps, and to be fair that was a reasonable enough precaution to make. It's not like the magi cared about the rule of law, or respected any authority that wasn't their own, the enforcement of secrecy was as much to keep their own power as it was to guard the truth of what was happening in Fuyuki. I didn't particularly care one way or another, but the enforcement of the rules was problematic here.

If I had to obey the rules blindly, without question, I would have to kill Isabel. I didn't have the memory removal trick that the Tohsaka girl had, and I certainly wasn't about to ask her help for it. That would mean admitting I'd lied to her, and while certainly embarrassing to admit that, it would also prompt her to search for my true Master. I could ask for the Priest's assistance, but I doubted that such a man would consider a solution as roundabout as memory alteration to be prudent. I doubted Kotomine would offer any consideration or favors for me either, he struck me as a man rather concerned with neutrality, and I wasn't about to irritate him by asking for special consideration.

It would be a waste really, to snuff out her life while she was still so young. Certainly not as young as those children I'd just talked to of course, but young nonetheless. Her file had never really explained why she'd gone off into this sort of life, and the background listed had the telltale signs of a woman desperately trying to escape her past. I had no intention of digging any further of course, it was a personal matter, but I was also self-aware enough to note that my sympathy was making things far more difficult than they had to be.

My eyes studied the obviously nervous mercenary. In my past life, I'd quickly learned about the persuasive power of careful calibrated silence and so I had elected to use it here. My brow raised at her words, my arms folding behind me in a vaguely military posture as I allowed her to sweat. From there, it didn't take long at all.

"I know you told us to just watch the town and honestly that was the plan but while we were doing it this one man in red showed up, the one you fought with with-" she stammered here, and I note her eyes glancing upwards, towards my visages, before she continued slightly more unnerved than she'd been before. "-the one you fought with. The one with the swords. I know you trusted us to the mission and it was supposed to be an easy one and I'm sorry we screwed up and-"

She paused, swallowing her words before she looked at me, all doe eyed and filled with wonder. "Is what the girl said true? Are you really Her?"

I waited for a moment, before sighing. "We are likely going to continue talking to these people for a longer period of time, so if we're going to do that you will need to pretend to be something you're not. They will refer to you as a Master and me as a Servant, they'll also try to fish for whatever information they can get from you. You will say nothing. If you do well, we'll talk about this afterwards, understood?"

She nodded quickly at that, her head bobbing up and down so fast I was concerned she'd crack her own neck. "Of course, your Highness."

"Stop that." I snapped, and she flinched back for a moment before nodding. Honestly, Hispania hadn't even been in OZEV all that long compared to the other nations, they were an independent polity long enough that I'd assumed their admission into the organization could do something about all that rampant hero worship. Unfortunately, my impression had been wrong, and what I'd taken for Hispania's attempts at cool diplomacy had masked a populace eager to take advantage of greater ties to Europe. I could only presume Isabel was born in the midst of all that Germania-fever.

The expression on the girl's face told me that I was probably right, and I considered my next few words carefully.

"You will call me Servant while with these people, and you're going to let me do all the talking. They will talk about things and explain things that probably won't make sense, just don't comment on it. You will keep everything you hear from them to the grave, understood? Once I debrief the rest there will be information that I will not disclose, and there will be a reason for it."

I paused for a moment, before steeling myself. I never really liked taking advantage of my reputation, but it was such a useful thing I could hardly refrain from doing it. I placed my hand on her shoulder, her entire body tensing, her eyes widening as I did, and leaned in closer.

"I'm trusting you with this, understood? This is important, more important than you know, and while I understand that I'm imposing upon you more than your contract allows rest assured you will be compensated for it, understand?"

Isabel nodded at that, her eyes glowing with a wonder that was honestly worrying. "Understood your Highness, I won't let you down."

"Stop that." I said reflexively, and she nodded excitedly at that. I sighed, it was a start at least. I likely wouldn't be able to silence the girl about all this, but if she's this excited to work with me then suppressing or discouraging her would do more harm than good. Despite that, encouraging her behavior probably wouldn't be wise either, though her excitability was an additional guarantee of loyalty beyond the money and whatever speck of camaraderie I'd managed to generate with them.

Nonetheless, time was wasting. With a final pat on the shoulder I motioned for her to follow. "Very well. Come on then, Master. Let's see what the children have in store for us."

There was something of a strangling sound behind me, and I turned around to find Isabel strangely blushed as she crouched down to pick up her helmet. I shrugged, before moving on ahead to the other Masters with my own in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: As of 7/2/2020 We are now at the most recent chapter of Kaiserin. As such, we'll be aiming for a chapter every week or so, give or take. Thank you for your interest in the story so far, and I hope it doesn't disappoint!


	13. 2.3

2.3

The emergency services didn’t arrive as immediately as I thought they would, my memory of the typical excellency in Japanese, and now Akinese, emergency services clashing with the apparent reality. The onset of the battle was fairly brief, a little over my one-minute time limit, but the subsequent conversation was quite a bit longer. While I had no illusions about a city’s ability to respond that quickly to a perceived catastrophe, one had to admit that there was a degree of expectation for handling a crisis better. I’d made sure that my own strikes would cause minimal collateral damage, but the city’s fire brigade didn’t know that. With a magical discharge of this magnitude and billowing smoke covering half the neighborhood they should be hauling ass to get to there as soon as possible, yet there was nothing.

It made one wonder at the systems and procedures the founders of the Holy Grail War would have had to put in place for Fuyuki to ensure that even such a notable attack would have an unforgivably sluggish response. The system would have had to be fairly expansive to cover an acceptable degree of scenarios, and what with this system orchestrated by the Three Families and the Holy Church, magecraft was undoubtedly an aspect of it. Nonetheless keeping such measures active constantly would be impractical, there was no way they could purge the memories and puppet the actions of the hundreds of people involved in the daily humdrum of city life. From the operators that would hear of something suitably eye raising to the first responders who would be sent afterwards to the middle managers and administrators who would order the entire thing shut down and more mundane reasons promulgated. It was unfeasibly ungainly to force compliance over that many people, which meant that there would have to be willing collaborators scattered across the city. In which case, what with their purse strings influenced by the Three Families, I found it exceedingly difficult to imagine that they would all be neutral. Where did the rot start? Where did it end?

The ability to project such influence over a city wasn’t easy, and thinking about it further only highlighted the power that the Three Families held. They’d been working towards this task, the acquisition of the Holy Grail, for the past two hundred years now. It was fair enough to say that the entire city was likely suffused with their authority in one way or another. Galliasta’s information had indicated that while the Matous and the Einzberns had worked on the magical architecture necessary to empower the ritual, but it was the Tohsakas that offered up the land of Fuyuki for experimentation.

My eyes glanced over to the girl in red ahead of me, walking without a care in the world. Or at least that’s what it seemed. Speaking as an expert on putting up a respectable front, I could spot such an act a mile away. The careful grace of her steps, the carefully selected clothing paired with a face that seemed to deny any possibility of fear or doubt. It was all an effort to project a measure of confidence and invulnerability, a way to compensate for her current weakness. A reasonable enough course of action, with a weakened Servant and surrounded by potential enemies, maintaining a front of strength would be critical. At the very least, she had to ensure she wasn’t an easy target, if not towards any enemies watching us from the shadows, then to the Servants that walked so close to her that she risked death with a moment’s false step.

I respected it actually, the awareness of her vulnerability and the steps she took to ameliorate it indicated a degree of cunning and intelligence that was both admirable and dangerous. I myself had concocted a similar veneer in my teenage years, but I had the advantage of living an entirely different life in an entirely different world. Tohsaka understood, even from an early age, that relying solely on power and prestige to get by in life was a foolish notion, which considering she herself possessed power and prestige by dint of her family’s influence equaled into an opponent I should not at all underestimate. From what Isabel had told me, prior to Saber being summoned and right after I accosted her, Tohsaka had been logical enough to assault the shed they’d been hiding in, presumably in an effort to eliminating my ‘Master’. A well thought out strategic move I had to admit. With the information available to her and with a pressing time constraint, she’d made the high-risk decision to aim for my ‘Master’, ensuring that as long as she herself succeeded then no matter the outcome between myself and Archer it would have undoubtedly turned into a loss.

My gaze glances towards the girl, still talking with Emiya. The boy seemed uncomfortable, though whether it was from the night’s events or with how the girl seemed particularly interested in him, I couldn’t say. Saber walked by her Master’s side, armored footsteps keeping them within arm’s reach as she maintained her ability to protect her charge if necessary. Tohsaka didn’t seem to mind, gracing the Servant with a smile even as she remained well within melee range.

Yes, a dangerous opponent. Or a particularly useful Master.

We were some distance away from the smoking ruin that was our battlefield a few minutes ago. While discussing next steps was certainly on everyone’s agenda, it was more or less agreed upon that discussing it near such a visible location wasn’t particularly wise. We hadn’t yet found any such place to discuss things for the moment, so we continued to walk on as we dodged whatever civilian presence was active this late at night.

So far things had been going well, all things considered. Honestly, I’d expected them to turn on me sometime after I had finished talking with Isabel, but the impending betrayal had failed to materialize. Perhaps it was the awareness that I and my ‘Master’ could fly off at the first sign of danger and leave them breathing in our dust, or perhaps that the two Masters were not as close as they first appeared. Nonetheless, our safety was more or less assured for the moment.

Things were quiet though, and not in a good way. There was a tension in the air bred from the kind of uncertainty that came so often with life threatening situations, and I knew that negotiations couldn’t continue without at least a politely agreed illusion of mutual non-belligerence. I couldn’t help but notice that Tohsaka’s hands seemed to subconsciously stray towards her pockets, or that despite the sheer hilarity of the sight Saber had elected to walk the entire way clad in her armor. A wrong move here could completely torpedo negotiations, and while having Emiya and Tohsaka at each other’s throats was an acceptable result, it certainly wasn’t an optimal one. The tension served to temper even Isabel’s exuberance, the mercenary having thankfully returned to the calm composure I expected of my men.

Nonetheless, the state of tension couldn’t last forever, and given the two Masters before me it would obviously be easier to talk to the one I hadn’t tried to kill ten minutes ago. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this, Emiya.” I say in akinese, a skill that seemed to surprise him. “This contest of ours certainly isn’t for the faint of heart, and you’ve found yourself brought to compete in it against your will. A regrettable state of affairs, and I could only wish that things worked out differently.”

Emiya laughed nervously, a hand going to his neck as he did. “It’s okay uh, ma’am. I know that you and Isabel tried your best to save me, and even if Tohsaka’s…Servant? Her Servant was involved, I’m sure he only meant well. I still don’t understand anything about this war that you and her are talking about, but from what I understand you’re the real Tanya von Degurechaff? You look a lot uh, younger, than I thought you’d be.”

Isabel’s attention seemed to drift from Emiya to myself for a moment, and I sighed. “Servants are drawn forth from the past, Heroes to fight for their Masters. Think of us as Familiars, or Ghosts if you like. As such, a Servant’s identity is typically kept a secret, since they could hint at a way they may be defeated. It’s why your own Saber hasn’t said anything relating to her own identity, no?”

I turned to the swordswoman, who answered me with a blank stare. I held her gaze for a while until she eventually spoke. “Yes, what she says is true.”

Emiya seemed to brighten at that, uncaring at the woman’s cold tone. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for asking then, miss. I was being rude with asking about your name, wasn’t I?”

Before I could respond, another voice joined the conversation. “As if. Her identity’s so blindingly obvious you could tell just by looking at her, though a fat load of good that does. It’s not like the Silver Chancellor even _has_ anything convenient like a vulnerable weak spot or death by mistletoe. What’s the game plan exactly, lure her into a room full of smoke?”

I scoff in amusement, looking at Tohsaka who met my gaze with bemused irritation. “If I didn’t know better Miss Tohsaka, I’d imagine that you were praising me.”

Her snort of disdain was just too quick and too prepared to have been completely natural. “Hardly. It’s not like modern Servants are even all that powerful in comparison to older legends, but if a magi _had_ to pick a modern Hero then obviously they’d pick you. Considering how recent you are it wouldn’t be that difficult figuring out a catalyst for you, but that probably also means your Master was working on a budget right? Couldn’t afford one of the big guns?”

Her voice was teasing, nearly but not quite mocking, as she directed her question to Isabel. The mercenary frowned in confusion, seeming for a moment like a baby duck abandoned by the wayside before she rallied and shook her head.

“No.” she said with surprising conviction. “It doesn’t matter who I’d pick, the Kaiserin would always be the strongest regardless.”

I scratch at my forehead, flattered and somewhat embarrassed by the girl’s words but doubly amused at Tohsaka’s expression, a kind of flabbergasted look that briefly broke her out of her calm and composed act. Despite that, she recovered remarkably well, nodding to Isabel as though the girl had agreed with her and barreling through to avoid her embarrassment.

“Y-yes, well. It’s obvious enough that you’re a mage, with all that expensive looking gear, but that doesn’t mean you’re a magus you know. There’s a whole load of information you’d be lacking what with a substandard education, in which case you’d know that…”

I could see a frown slowly forming on Isabel’s face as the girl prattled on, the urge to argue with the Tohsaka girl doubtlessly forming and so I intervened. “Regardless, considering Emiya’s understanding of the situation, perhaps he’s right in that the events of tonight were all just one big misunderstanding. I apologize for what injury I’d inflicted onto your Archer, rest assured I shall be carrying out compensations for Emiya when I can. I think you’d agree that he’s suffered the most so far, what with being dragged into this war against his will.”

My words seemed to sober up the Tohsaka Master, who looked at me with a critical eye. I met her gaze evenly, though it was obvious enough to both of us what I was doing.

She’d seen the power that this Saber was capable of, her ability to both endure the strikes of an opponent while capable of devastating damage in return, the epitome of applied force onto a singular target. Tohsaka was not nearly as naïve as the boy, with her Servant wounded by my hand, operating without support in this war would be difficult if not outright impossible. While it was perhaps possible to ally herself with one of the other great Families, I was fairly certain she wouldn’t pursue such a strategy. The Three Families may have constructed the Holy Grail War, but that did not at all mean they were allies. Only one could win after all, and allying with one of the (presumably) stronger members of the war while her own Servant was injured was a gamble. For these Families to have survived suggested a ruthless disposition and a propensity towards victory at all costs, allying with them while she was still so weak would be akin to submitting as a puppet.

As such, the most logical path she would need to take now was to pursue a means to ameliorate her own weakness, and the Emiya-Saber pair was ideal for that. With a Saber to handle the frontline offensive and an Archer to maintain fire support, such an alliance would be a difficult one to topple. On top of that, the pair’s Master was a novice, meaning that he would be significantly easier to neutralize. She could convince him to concede the Grail to her, obscure important elements of the War so as to paint her enemies in a negative light while keeping her own reputation clean, or simply removing him when he wasn’t paying attention. Such an alliance would also cleanly counter me as well, the combination of Archer’s long-range ability with Saber’s constant ferocious assault is not something I would relish.

It was an elegant plan, so of course I had to co-opt it in my favor as soon as possible. In regular negotiations, securing an ally would involve treaties, monetary benefits and other fairly straightforward incentives. On a person to person basis, things were somewhat trickier, but the first step in that was doubtlessly getting on board with Emiya’s inanely naïve perspective while outlining just who exactly was at fault for his current plight. After all, I wasn’t the one who chased him with oversized butcher knives.

The boy laughed nervously, waving his hand as Saber stared. “It’s quite okay ma’am, things will be difficult for the next few days but I’d just need to lie low and-“

“Lie low?” I asked. “Mister Emiya, this isn’t a field trip that you’ve been shanghaied into. This is a war, a conflict between multiple powers at that, and rest assured if you would not be an active participant in this war then you’d be preyed upon by those who would.”

At my words Tohsaka jumped in to the conversation. “As much as I hate to admit it, Tanya-chan’s right. This isn’t something you can just walk away from, once you’re a Master, it’s either kill or be killed.”

I reflected that Tohsaka was rather straightforward, all things considered, even if she could have worded her statement a tad better. Nonetheless it was true, and so I nodded along with her even as Emiya frowned and looked back at the two of us. There was an air of innocent confusion on his face so potent I couldn’t help but shake my head in commiseration. Tohsaka sighed, settling down on a nearby bench, frustration evident.

“You really are wet behind the ears as far as experience goes, huh Emiya?” she sighs. “I know it was still an accident and all, but I’m amazed you managed to survive as long as you did against my Archer. Or perhaps my Archer was just weak, losing to a modern Hero in the very first fight of the war!”

Her last sentence was dismissive and contemptuous, not so much spoken to anyone in particular than thrown out into the air. A moment later, a wave of blue magic manifested in the space beside her, the Archer reappearing by her side. He held himself well, the injuries I’d inflicted gone, though that in itself was an illusion as I could still sense his spirit faltering from his wounds, an eyebrow raised at his Master’s words. To my side I felt Isabel tense, her hand reaching for her sidearm at the same time as Saber’s sword manifested itself in her hands. Archer chuckled, a smirk on his face as he raised his hands in surrender, before looking over Tohsaka.

“I’m disappointed in you, Rin.” He sighs. “You shouldn’t underestimate a Heroic Spirit regardless of age, there will be times when more modern Heroes can be quite formidable.”

“Ha.” She scoffed. “You’re only saying that because you got beaten by one you hack.”

Archer laughed, before turning an analytical eye to me. It was interesting, observing him this close without either of us trying to kill the other. Unlike Saber, who wore hints of her identity all over her body, this one was far more difficult to pin down. Our fight earlier hadn’t afforded me any hints beyond a propensity for creating blades, which as far as indication of identity went wasn’t great. Perhaps something relating to his weapons, but the butcher knives he masqueraded as swords wasn’t in any way familiar as far as I could recall, and whether by accident or design I never did get to see his bow.

Nonetheless, there was no reason to be impolite, so I offered my hand. “Pleasant to meet you properly, Archer. I’m sorry about your arm, and your gut. Protecting one’s Master and all, I’m sure you understand.”

The Servant in Red chuckled, an amused smirk as the arm I injured rose to meet mine, grasping my hand in a firm shake. “The venerable Tanya von Degurechaff. I’d like to say it’s a pleasure to meet you again, but considering what had happened last we meet I fear you would take that as an invitation to reenact our fight.”

“Oh? How uncharacteristic of you Archer.” Tohsaka snickered. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of her now?”

“Only to the extent of professional courtesy my Master, something I understand would be quite difficult for you.” He drolled, much to the girl’s annoyance. He turned his attention back to me. “It was interesting fighting you, unexpected almost. I’ll remember that one with the knee next time.”

I shrugged. “When you get into enough life-threatening situations, one tends to the unexpected in order to survive. Be thankful, I wasn’t entirely sure if we feel things the same way we did when we were alive, otherwise I would have hit you in the balls instead. I don’t imagine a Servant’s fortitude would have made _that_ any less painful huh?”

My attempt at a joke hit the mark, and a short bark of laughter erupted from the Archer as he shook his head and turned aside. “If we have to ally with one of these two, I’d suggest we do it with the Chancellor. At the very least she’d be a better conversationalist than the Saber.”

Tohsaka seemed very much put out by the conversation, a world-weary sigh passing her lips. “Wonderful, my Servant is a flirt _and_ a masochist. I wish I knew all this before I summoned you.” Her eyes turned towards the Saber, hope and envy filling her eyes. “If Saber was my Servant, this war would be in the bag by now. It’s obvious that you don’t even want to be in this war, so how about you hand her over to me?”

The boy narrowed his eyes, irritation blooming in his eyes, but before he could even speak his Servant spoke for him. “Even if I were a thing to be handed over.” She began, words high and haughty. “You could barely handle an errant Archer. The difficulties you invite to yourself by wishing to be my Master are vast and terrible indeed, I would not suggest it.”

There was a moment of silence there, before it was broken by Archer’s chuckle even as Tohsaka stared agape at Saber. “Well, well. It seems like you’re stuck with me for the immediate future, my deepest apologies, Rin.”

Tohsaka’s groan was pained, aggrieved and perfectly timed, a work of art so thorough that I couldn’t help but congratulate her, even if only in my thoughts. I was familiar with the use of humor to defuse tense social situations, and the self-deprecating nature of her act was quite effective, doubly so in that her Servant was going along with it. Despite surface appearances, the two worked very well together, an almost instinctual bond that I couldn’t help but appreciate. It was a charming routine, designed to reduce the perceived threat we might see in the two, and if not for the fact that I knew better I would have almost been taken in.

After all, I’d seen how quickly her eyes could grow cold when the chips were on the line. The way she would drop the pretense, that mask of civility and reveal the cold and rational gaze that I sometimes saw in Galliasta’s eyes and which I’ve definitely seen in the Einzbern’s eyes. The eyes of a magus, operating under a veneer of civility and good humor, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. What else could one expect from the heir to the Tohsaka after all?

It was clear that Emiya himself was too naïve to resist her manipulations, though it was heartening to see that Saber was aware enough of her moves to deliberately enforce distance between Tohsaka and herself. Still, allowing Tohsaka to set the pace of the conversation was not particularly attractive, so I decided to do something about it.

“Emiya. The Holy Grail War is a battle to the death, for a prize only one can keep.” My voice morose as he stared at me with wide eyes. “It’s clear to me, to everyone here, that you know nothing about this world and nothing about this prize. I had intended to speak with you and the Tohsaka girl about the possibility of an alliance, but what with your own ignorance I can see that doing so now would be in bad faith.”

“Bad faith?” Tohsaka asked, curiosity in her eyes as I nodded.

“Bad faith. The intent to deceive, to bargain with the intent of one’s own personal benefit at the expense of others.” I noted back. “Any agreement made here without the boy’s full understanding of events and the nature of the war is an agreement that cannot be expected to last. We are your enemies now, and it is to be expected that an enemy would seek to deceive you, hence anything we say would be suspect. I would suggest for you to educate yourself, speak to the arbiter of this war at the Kotomine Parish, and thereafter come to a decision on your own.”

Tohsaka frowned, a thoughtful look on her face, even as Emiya shook his head. “Wait a minute, you saved me, we can’t be enemies-“

“We _are_ enemies, Mr. Emiya.” I repeated back, and perhaps it was something in my tone that caused him to step back and for Tohsaka’s eyes to narrow back at me. “If an alliance were to be made, we would no longer be enemies, but an alliance cannot be made until you possess all the relevant facts. I’ve spoken with the arbiter before, he seemed trustworthy enough last we spoke-

“Trustworthy? Kotomine?” Tohsaka muttered under her breath.

“-and if nothing else it would help guide your further decisions.” I concluded. “Of course, you’re free to distrust what I’m saying, it is only reasonable, but until you’ve been informed as to the nature of the war an agreement cannot be made.”

Emiya seemed deep in thought for a moment, before looking up at Tohsaka, and then back to me. “I got a question first-“

“As I said, we would not be trustworthy sources of information-“

“Yeah about that.” He frowned, folding his arms. “What makes you say that? That all of you can’t be trusted? You and Isabel basically went in guns blazing to save my life when you thought I was in danger, Tohsaka went and put herself in danger for me when she thought Isabel had captured me, all of you’ve actually gone out of your way to help me. I’m sure this arbiter of yours is a swell guy, but I’d trust both you and Tohsaka far more than whoever’s actually in charge of this entire thing.”

I scoffed, shaking my head at his naivete even as Tohsaka averted his gaze. “You were an uninitiated civilian when Archer had contacted you, now you are a Power in this War. It would be in your best interest to distrust us, the most rational course of action really, and it’s obvious enough that you would have come to that conclusion eventually.”

It would have been easy, perhaps insultingly so, to string the child along and use him as a puppet. If that and that alone was the goal, the best course of action would have been to coordinate with Tohsaka, arrange a deal wherein we would be allied together while manipulating Emiya as a puppet of sorts. As long as we kept Emiya within our sphere of influence, manipulated him into thinking all other participants in the war as some sort of monster or villain to defeat, then he would be firmly in our corner. The establishing foundation of having saved him would mean he would trust us beyond reasonable doubt, dismissing what information would have come to him from other sources as we systematically dismantled the rest of our opposition. An alliance between myself, Archer and Saber would have been a formidable combination indeed, and with luck on our side we could probably eliminate some of the other Servants from the war before they would realize the peril they were now in and band together.

But it was also a short-sighted, self-destructive, path that was doomed to failure. A partnership based upon deception and lies was not something that could be maintained forever. The foundation of trust we formed was solid, but not insurmountable, and a determined individual could use the proof of our deception as a means of leverage to tear Emiya and his Saber from our grasp. Saber herself has proven to be a canny sort, capable of reacting against Tohsaka’s own maneuvering earlier, and I had no doubt that she would caution Emiya against our alliance, or simply reveal the truth of the war and allow that to dissolve the alliance from the inside out. In the end, all that would occur was that we remove a Servant or two if we’re lucky, before Emiya would turn on us for the lies we’d fed him. It would tip the scales of self interest away from cooperation and directly into competition, and if that was the case I’d rather he be an enemy without than an enemy within.

There was the loss of the goodwill I’ve generated with the boy of course, but that was to be expected. If nothing else, it came with the benefit of devaluing Tohsaka’s goodwill as well, essentially setting us both to zero again. An acceptable outcome, all things considered. I was fairly certain that if Saber and Archer turned on me without prior preparation I’d be in more trouble than I was comfortable with, so if nothing else would be done tonight, the two of them failing to come to an agreement was acceptable enough.

Emiya was quiet for a while as he frowned in thought, his Saber quietly standing by his side. Tohsaka seemed flustered or confused by something, though she remained quiet as she watched the boy, Archer giving me a curious look as she did. Isabel seemed completely and thoroughly confused by this point, but was gamely keeping up a calm front for now. Eventually, Emiya broke the silence.

“Okay, I think I get it.” He nodded, a smile on his lips. “You really are a good person huh?”

There was a moment’s pause as I digested his words and Tohsaka chortled, a strange sort of half bemused, half confused, sort of sound. It took a few seconds longer for me to push words out my mouth. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t entirely get everything you said, but from what I can see you want me to speak to the arbiter so I’d know exactly what I’m getting into right? A bad guy would have just taken advantage of that, but you’re just looking out for me aren’t you?”

“N-no.” I said, feeling more confused by the second as I turned to Tohsaka. The girl seemed just as confused as I was, but was infinitely more amused by the way things were going. Archer sighed, disappearing into the aether with a disgusted shake of his head. “I’m merely suggesting that you be aware of all the facts before-“

“No, no. I get it.” Emiya nodded, his eyes lit with a certainty that hadn’t been there before. “If you want me to speak to the arbiter then it’s probably a good idea, will you be going with us too, Tohsaka-san?”

“Going with you? I wouldn’t miss this train wreck for the world.” Tohsaka chuckled, standing from the bench and making a show of stretching before turning to me. “After all, we wouldn’t want the uninitiated little hatchling of a person to walk there without adult supervision, do we Tanya-chan?”

“I suppose not.” I respond, still confused as Tohsaka took the lead, with Emiya following her. It didn’t take long for them to enter into a conversation vaguely related to schoolwork, even as Saber eventually took to following them, casting a last look by my direction before trotting off after them.

I turned to Isabel, intending to ask her what exactly had just happened, only to be met with a gaze that I couldn’t quite comprehend. I sighed, deciding to just not think about it for now, and walked after the two Masters.


	14. X. Masters

X. Masters  
  
If one were to sit down and study the mechanisms and systems of Thaumaturgy, conventional wisdom would conclude that the nature of Magi was intrinsically insular.  
  
The Mysteries are a twisting, many headed, hydra composed of a hundred different retellings and a thousand different iterations of each fearsome head. One may choose to tackle one of those heads, to draw blood from it, gain understanding from it and classify it and categorize it, only for it twist and turn in your hands. One may take the head and butcher it, drawing its secrets from the bone, only for a single scratch to sink its poison into your body and end you. Worst yet, one could find an accomplice, one who had been struggling with that very same head for their entire life, only to find that their methods and concepts completely incomprehensible to them. A branch of study both completely anathema to one’s own, yet just as applicable as one’s own.  
  
So it was that the first of the Magi took the study of Thaumaturgy and devoted to it the study of generations. To breed and create iterations of themselves that would continue on the struggle, that would take their efforts and research and bring it to further heights. A hundred generations, a thousand iterations, the knowledge carved into their own bones until such knowledge became like a second heart or a third eye. Knowledge coiled upon itself again and again and again until such a time that if one would look at where the Magi began and where the Magi ended the difference would be near incomprehensible. Like taking a grain of sand and comparing it to a kaleidoscope.  
  
There had been times when Thaumaturgy was described as a Science, oftentimes by the uninitiated, and it was something that the Magus Association had never been particularly fond of. The very foundational truth of the Sciences was that there _was_ a truth in the first place. Core principals that could be pointed out as impenetrable fact from which one could build upon and expand as a parasite to its host. That parallels were drawn between the methodology of Scientists and Magi were a surface level comparison at best, but he’d always thought the comparison was useful. Not so much from the validity of the comparison of course, but more from who was making the comparison.  
  
You see, the vast majority of the time, when the uninitiated would begin to learn Thaumaturgy, they would almost always be of _that_ sort. The Modern Sorcerers. The Practitioners of the Orb. The Devil’s Kin. Mages.  
  
Their origin was simple enough to trace back, at least initially. The Holy Church and the Magus Association had not always seen eye to eye, and there was a time wherein blood was shed, bloodlines extinguished and treasures taken by the victors. Of those, a variety of Mystic Codes were taken by the Church as souvenirs and tools, the artifacts kept hidden in a variety of locations within Europe for centuries. Then, sometime before the dawn of the Twentieth Century, those same Codes fell into the hands of modernists and Scientists.  
  
By all rights that should have been the end of it. Mystic Codes were not some toy to be used by any ignorant fool, but specialized tools with particular trigger conditions. The theft of those artifacts ought to have been discovered, their perpetrators hunted down and extinguished, the Codes returning to the moonlit world where they belonged.  
  
And yet it did not. The Hunters were foiled, either neutralized or outright joining the Scientists in the first place. The Mystic Codes were analyzed and studied, their ancient secrets broken apart and thrown into the light of human rationalism. Their methods extrapolated and tied into the concept of numerology and mathematics, expanded and turned into a modern science.  
  
It should have been impossible, and yet it happened nonetheless. It was the greatest advancement into the nature of Thaumaturgy in the past thousand years. For the Mysteries to expand past the shadow of rumor and fable to instill itself into the collective consciousness of Mankind. A means to avoid the slow decay of Thaumaturgy, a way out of the trap. By all rights as soon as such a phenomenon would have been noticed the Association should have descended upon this new breed of Magi and discover the cause of their aberration.  
  
And what did the Magus Association do? The Atlas Institute? The Wandering Sea? They ignored it. Dismissed it as unworthy of study, unworthy even of observation. They called it derivative, drawn forth from well understood principles and degraded even further by these scientists twisting the mysteries into the realm of conventional logic. Beyond that, it was new, originating from those deemed most inferior, and so obviously their ideas were inferior as well. Conventional logic would dictate that only the ideas of those possessing ancient stature and perfect bloodline should be considered, never mind the ideas of those incapable of magic in the first place. Thus, the distinction between the new breed and the old grew without a finger lifted to stop it, this new breed straying further and further into the light without even an inkling of their origins while the Association saw them more and more as degraded acolytes, refusing even to consider them as kin.  
  
The Galliasta Family was old, though in the eyes of the Association even his own bloodline was still that of a newborn whelp. In times past his family had toed the line as dictated by the Clock Tower, moving at the Association’s whim for even the barest scrap of meat falling from the table of their Masters. It was why his Family had fled from Germania before the eruption of the Great War; beyond the consideration of safety, the Association would have looked unkindly at any Magi Family with even the barest minimal interaction with this new breed of Mage. Perhaps if they’d lived in in Legadonia or Ildoa such a move would not be necessary, but to reside in Germania? The forefront of this so-called magical revolution? Impossible.  
  
Galliasta had often mused what would have happened if his Family had opted to stay in Germania as a few others did. Likely they would have been de facto exiled from the Association proper, but access to Germania and OZEV would certainly have been worth it. Those few Families that chose to stay and attach their fortunes to that of Germania were rewarded richly for it, adapting from the shadows of the Association into the light of OZEV’s Establishment. The Forvedges, the Musiks, the Icecolle and others were regarded as less than dirt by the Association’s leadership, though Galliasta didn’t think that they particularly cared for what the Association thought.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
The Magus opened his eyes. The woman before him was prim and proper, her hair nestled into a neat bun, her helmet nestled between her arm and a cold expression on her Asiatic features. Despite the dour look and burn scar marring a portion of her face, she was still conventionally pretty and she’d worked for him long enough for Galliasta to know that her expression wasn’t really an indicator for displeasure at anything in particular. The woman merely walked about as though she held most things as being equally unimportant in her eyes, a remarkably refreshing viewpoint for a Mage that he couldn’t help but appreciate.  
  
He shook off the wave of ennui that had been washing over him. Worrying about could-have-beens and should-have-beens was something he was never particularly good at. “It’s nothing, Miss Fang. You were saying?”  
  
Fang moved for a moment, readjusting her grip on her helmet and breaking the illusion as she did. Her from wavered, a glaze of static washing over her form as the computation device by his desk whirred and hummed as it produced the holographic projection. A second later and the static was gone, and from an outsider’s perspective Fang was standing before him once more.  
  
“As noted, after Sweeper One’s interdiction by the Archer entity, Degurechaff broke cover and engaged it in pitched combat with minimal collateral damage. Shortly thereafter, Subject 104 contracted, manifesting the Saber entity which prompted Archer into retreating and Degurechaff into a forced engagement with Saber.”  
  
Galliasta allowed his head to rest upon his hand, leaning back into his seat as he did. “And this was when she began conversing with the other Masters, was it?”  
  
Fang nodded. “After a point, sir. Subject 104, Saber’s Master, interrupted the engagement. This was followed by a brief conversation with Subject 4, Archer’s Master. While I was unable to determine what exactly they discussed, hostilities ceased quickly thereafter. Degurechaff gave orders to the rest of the Tresillo, whereupon she took Squad Leader Laverne as well as the rest of the Masters to a direct bearing headed towards the Kotomine Parish.”  
  
A few moments passed, Galliasta seemingly deep in thought before finally chuckling. “I see. From direct combat, to negotiations to an escort of good faith hmm? How remarkable, though I suppose that’s exactly what one could expect from a Servant with the highest level of Charisma, hmm?”  
  
The mercenary said nothing, merely staring dutifully onward as his employer mused to himself. The Magus continued, undeterred by the silence. “Nonetheless, it is something of a concern, but nothing truly serious for now. If the Kaiserin wants to play with her food before she butchers them, who am I to get in her way? Continue passive observation, Miss Fang. Thank you for your report.”  
  
The holographic projection fizzled away into nothing as Fang nodded in acquiescence. By the time the apparition had disappeared, Galliasta was already inputting a command into his computation device.  
  
Tanya von Degurechaff was many things. She was an inspiration, a trailblazer in what the modern mage should be as entire generations of men and women around the world set themselves to her example. She was a visionary, possessed of a chillingly accurate foresight that set plans to motion against tepid opponents long before they knew she was even an enemy. She was ruthless, her actions ravaging her opponent and leaving behind an era of Pax Germannia.  
  
But a pliable Servant? A creature intended to obey her Master without question? Galliasta was smarter than that, it was obvious that Degurechaff would want more, would not be content with anything but the best. It was a reason for why she was allowed the use of some of his mercenaries, a means for her to stretch her wings and be at least somewhat more comfortable within his employ.  
  
Galliasta had almost decided against summoning Degurechaff in the first place. Her relics were too closely guarded by her people, all belongings of note carted away to who knows where. Even the location of her body, even where she died, was shrouded in secrecy. Her tomb was public enough for her admirers to take the pilgrimage to her grave, but his sources had indicated that her actual body was sequestered elsewhere, in a more private, less glamorous setting. Beyond even the practical consideration of obtaining a catalyst, there was the issue of an acceptable degree of synergy between his own mindset and Degurechaff. He had no illusions regarding whether they were a good ‘match’, so to speak. For all that the woman was a forward thinker, she was still a Mage unused to the sorceries and perspectives of a Magi. That she accepted his research at all was already an achievement and he had no pressing need to push her beyond what she would be comfortable with. Ideally, Degurechaff would simply be a tool that could be directed and applied whenever necessary and with minimal interference, so as to allow the woman the space to carry out her objectives while maintaining professional distance. All troublesome details to be certain, but which would likely prove necessary in maintaining her loyalty.  
  
Nonetheless, for all the troubles that summoning the Kaiserin likely entailed, he was glad that he’d been convinced into summoning her. Medea of Colchis would have been even more difficult to wrangle into obedience, and he had no doubt that a Magus so close to the Age of the Gods would be utterly impossible to deal with. For all the problems Degurechaff posed, she was still a modern visionary, one could still understand her. For a creature such as the Witch of Betrayal, her mind would be so twisted into knots and alien values that he was fairly certain he would have lost the war in trying to control her.  
  
The computation device whirred, a new projection occupying the space Fang left behind. A young man with shaggy hair and dead eyes, one of the mercenaries he’d contracted from the Unified States. He was familiar with the man, aware that he lacked any real consideration for niceties and so proceeded with that in mind.  
  
“Sir.”  
  
“The status of tonight’s shipment?”  
  
There was a pause as the man reached out of frame for something, the projection glazing over with static for a moment, before he returned with a clipboard in hand. “Ten additional subjects from Fuyuki General Hospital, Fifteen from the Homurahara Elementary with an additional eight from miscellaneous operations around the city. Current total is at thirty-three, though as per your instructions only twenty-nine would be at the purity levels you would require.”  
  
Galliasta sighed. “That makes eighty in total now. Time is running short, is there a possibility you would be able to accelerate your operation?”  
  
The pause was longer this time, the man frowning slightly in thought. “Not without violating Isolation protocol. We could draw more from Yatsushirodai Elementary while maintaining Isolation, but travel time may be an issue due to the distances involved.”  
  
The Magus tapped his hand across his desk. “Fine. Carry on as you were for the next day or two, but after that I want your men prepared to abandon subtlety and move for a smash and grab, understood?”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“Very good. You’re dismissed.”  
  
It was unseemly that his family Magecraft relied so much on something as barbaric and inefficient as human sacrifice, even more so when compared to the more elegant mysteries employed by his opponents. It was almost comical in a way, to dare challenge the Einzbern, Tohsaka and Matou and their generational mysteries with something as simplistic as his own pitiful Magecraft. While he had the advantage of wealth for the moment, it was a temporary benefit at best, one that would prove useless if he mis-stepped in any way. In due course, had he simply entered this war with only his Magecraft and his wealth behind him, he knew he would have lost pitifully.  
  
Galliasta reached into his pocket, pulling forth a blood red handkerchief. Carefully, he placed it to the table, opening it gently to reveal a shard of dark grey metal no larger than a fingernail, it’s edges burnt and sharp as a knife.  
  
He had been admiring the artifact daily, wondering at how such a small thing could have been found in the first place, the journey it took before it settled into his palm. A casual observer might consider such a thing worthless, but to a true Magus? To a true Magus it was a near priceless catalyst, withdrawn from the ruins of what had once been a great battlefield. All that remained of a rifle once possessed by a young Mage, her power so mighty that the weapon cracked in her hands before obliterating her foe and the mountain range behind her.  
  
No, it was perfect that he had summoned her instead of Medea. In the world of Magecraft, symbolism was everything. The themes and symbols one carried into battle nearly as important as the efficacy of their effects. With that in mind, what better symbol was there to assault and shatter the Old Order that these tired old men and their useless puppets represented than with the Devil herself?  
  


* * *

  
The city streets were, surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, slowly filling up with people. While one could have expected fairly empty roads and such for how late it was, it was somewhat more difficult for people to sleep through the sounds of magical explosions and a roaring fire, never mind the ashfall that occurred soon thereafter. It wasn’t particularly difficult navigating those roads, dodging or passing through the slowly growing crowds, though it was significantly more difficult for Emiya and his Saber. For some reason, an aspect of the unique nature of her summoning had resulted in her unable to turn into her spirit form. This, atop the Saber’s unwillingness to blend into the crowd, meant that travel was significantly slower than usual.  
  
This didn’t particularly impact their journey to the Kotomine Parish. Rin had vouched for the fact that if Kotomine wasn’t already a vampire he soon would be, and thus would likely be awake by the time they arrived at the Parish.  
  
What this _did_ mean, however, was that some people managed to have the opportunity to finally talk.  
  
A dry, vaguely amused, tone echoed within Rin’s mind. _“Should I be worried, Master?”  
  
“Oh, you think you have something to worry about? Perhaps about how utterly humiliating your performance was against the Kaiserin? Or maybe about how you acted oh so cool and mysterious, only to flop at the very first fight of the war? Maybe even about how I nearly died just getting onto the battlefield because you couldn’t chase down two measly people properly?”_  
  
There was a pause, deep and pregnant with tension and scorn, before it disappeared entirely and Archer sensed a sickly-sweet intent emanating from his Master.  
  
 _“No, of course not. Why should you be worried?”_  
  
Archer sighed, a long-suffering sound, as Rin continued leading the others with an angelic smile on her face. It had been perhaps half an hour now since the battle at the Emiya residence had taken place, and the Tohsaka Heir seemed in no mood at all to be particularly forgiving as to her Servant’s failure.  
  
 _“I have no idea why you’d think that way, Archer.”_ Rin thought, even as she smiled and took to the front as she led the group to the church. _“Is there something you’d be aware of that makes you think I should be worried? Perhaps you were actually weaker than all that supremely irritating aloof crap you had when I summoned you? Or perhaps what with all your many words about how I should stay in the back and not make a nuisance of myself in this war, the moment I arrived because of a call **you** made, I nearly died?”_  
  
Rin stared forward, eyes gleaming in barely constrained fury, and if Archer had standing right in front of her one might imagine the Servant combusting into flames at the heat in the girl’s eyes. A few moments passed before Archer spoke, his voice echoing behind her in that irritatingly self-assured tone.  
  
 _“Ah, you’re absolutely right, Master. Thank you for putting my mind at ease, I was worrying about nothing at all.”_  
  
“Mind at ease!?” Rin screeched aloud, turning to Archer in a fury, eyes gleaming with violence, before stopping herself short. Instead of the tall, crimson clad, presumably smug face of her Servant was the slightly concerned, piercingly blue eyes of the Servant that had gutted him so thoroughly. Tanya von Degurechaff stared at the Master, a puzzled look on her face as Rin felt blood rush to her face with the realization she’d actually spoken that aloud.  
  
“Mind at ease?” Tanya mused, frowning in thought as those disconcertingly blue eyes studied the Tohsaka. Rin yelped, hands unconsciously flattening over her skirt even as Archer’s laughter echoed in her thoughts.  
  
“N-nothing!” Rin spun back, fleeing from the Kaiserin’s gaze with all the elegance of a tumbling giraffe. The girl caught a brief glimpse of Emiya, a friendly yet confused look on his face, and Isabel, a far less friendly frown on her’s, before she turned her sights ahead of her once more. Archer chuckled.  
  
 _“There, are you feeling calm now?”  
  
“Calm? Fury more like. I’m impressed though, I’ve never heard a dead man talk so confidently.” _She seethed quietly.  
  
 _“Fury is good enough.”_ The Servant noted, the humor in his tone draining away as he spoke. _“But as amusing as it is letting you rant and seethe, we do have bigger problems. What’s your assessment?”_  
  
Rin bit back her instinctual response, swallowing her irritation before mentally recounting the details she’d studied. The nice thing about watching two Servants fight each other, besides not being threatened by either, was that it gave one a suitable opportunity to study them both.  
  
 _“The Saber’s a powerhouse.”_ Rin noted. _“A+ in her Noble Phantasm, A in Mana. B in Strength and Endurance. C in Luck. D in Agility, which you’d think would make her easier to run from, but what with that fight against Tanya and how she was flying around I have my doubts. I’m not sure to what extent Emiya’s been trained in, but considering that he’s never come to me before now we can presume he’s a rotten magus.”  
  
“Hmm? What do you mean?”  
  
“The Tohsaka Family hold Fuyuki City as our territory.”_ Rin thought loftily in her own head. _“Any magus entering the city would need to contact me for my permission, any magus embedding itself into the city for any period of time would need to meet with me personally. Emiya’s never done any of that, so obviously he’s not a magus worth anything. What a waste.”  
  
“Right.”_ Archer replied dryly. _“When you say ‘waste’, I somehow doubt you’re talking about him.”  
  
“Obviously.” _Rin rolled her eyes. _“If that Saber’s parameters are **that** high with a talentless simpleton like him holding her reigns, can you imagine how much more powerful she’d be as my Servant? We’d have won the war by now! We would have won the fight against Tanya, and I wouldn’t be stuck with a crippled Servant more interested in mocking me than winning the war!”  
  
“Who knows, Rin. Perhaps if you hadn’t been distracted saving the boy from Tanya’s Master and just shot her in the head like we discussed, we’d have won by now.” _He noted airily. _“I believe you said something like: ‘I can handle it’, ‘A single Master couldn’t possibly beat me’, ‘I’ll show you what I’m made of’. I imagine it must be embarrassing to you, being beaten by the woman who summoned your idol.”_  
  
Rin gritted her teeth. _“She is **not** my idol, just someone I looked up to when I was younger, that’s all!”_  
  
Archer’s tone turned triumphant, a strange sort of smugness suffusing through his words. _“Oh? Good girls shouldn’t lie Rin, I saw the pictures you know. You looked adorable as a blonde.”_  
  
This time, there was no response from his Master, and a curious look towards her revealed something the Heroic Spirit wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever seen before. Cloaked by the night, the rest of her body relaxed and calm so as not to arouse suspicion from her companions, Rin Tohsaka was making an admirable performance toeing the line between utter embarrassment and mind shattering rage. Her eyes were wide, staring straight ahead in an unnerving gaze that, for the briefest of moments, prompted Archer into considering whether he’d gone too far.  
  
The moment passed, and Archer’s grin widened. _“I wonder what the Kaiserin would give me, in exchange for delivering those pic-“  
  
“If you want to live past tonight, never mind until the end of the war, you’re going to shut up and never mention the pictures again.”_  
  
Archer’s chuckle echoed across Rin’s mind and in a fit of pique she chose to ignore it. She continued to walk, her Servant invisible but unfortunately not inaudible as the Master led them onwards to the Church.  
  
The journey was quiet for the most part, with the occasional muttered conversation that Rin made sure to always overhear. Emiya was the noisiest by far, in that he occasionally made small talk to anyone within his immediate vicinity. His Saber seemed content to speak more freely with him, her tone somewhat less distant with him compared to the cold demeanor she held for anyone else. The other Master was less outwardly cold but more subdued overall, constantly by her Servant’s side as she walked beside her like some subservient pet. The boy didn’t ask a lot of questions towards Rin herself, though she noted that he maintained a closer distance to her than the others.  
  
Then, finally, there was Her.  
  
“So, Miss Tanya-“  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Her tone was clipped and forward, not so much rude as it was terse and uncompromising. Emiya seemed hesitant for a moment, before steeling himself and reaching towards his pocket. Isabel started at his movement, though Tanya looked on curiously, her brow twitching as the boy pulled out his wallet and began withdrawing bills.  
  
“If you think you’re going to return the money I gave you, then you truly are daft.” Said She-Who-Once-Ruled-Europe.  
  
“It’s not right.” He maintained stubbornly. “I was only doing my job, I shouldn’t be excessively rewarded for just doing my job.”  
  
“You were rewarded for doing your job well, such that you went above and beyond the norm.” She replied. “You’re going to need it, considering what is to come. If it turns out we won’t be allied, you can just think of it as you getting one over on a foolish opponent.”  
  
Emiya frowned. “But I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to fight anyone.”  
  
Tanya scoffed. “How admirable, but unfortunately the world is filled with people that want to fight you. You’re going to need all the help you can get, keep the money, I insist.”  
  
Conversation between the two had been curious, with Emiya resolutely believing Degurechaff to be an innately good person, with Tanya herself being almost in a state of confounded puzzlement at his assertions the entire time. Archer seemed to note Rin’s distraction, his voice settling down next to her ear.  
  
 _“She’s an interesting one, isn’t she?”  
  
“Obviously.” _Rin snapped, hand waving the Servant away, though there wasn’t much heat to her words. _“She’s Tanya von Degurechaff.”_  
  
Archer was quiet for a while as the hill grew steeper and steeper, the lights of the street slowly giving way to the darkness of the Church up ahead. It was only as the Church grew larger in the distance that Archer spoke again.  
  
 _“We’ll need to kill her one day. Maybe not now, but eventually she’ll need to go if you want to win.”  
  
“I know that.”_ She growled, and this time there _was_ a spark of anger there. _“But I saw the way she fought. I’d rather have her on our side, fighting our enemies, than have her at our throats. I’d prefer we not fight her until absolutely necessary, and when we do fight, in a battleground that limits her maneuverability as much as possible. With how fast she was going, it’d be impossible to pin her down long enough for a kill if the sky’s above her.”  
  
“Agreed, though that isn’t the only problem is it? What do you have for me?”_  
  
If she could have, Rin would have sighed _“Parameter wise, she’s fairly solid. B in Mana and Agility, C in Endurance, D in Strength and Luck. Surprisingly decent, considering she’s died so recently.”  
  
“Her stat spread complements her style of attack.”_ Archer mused. _“Long range fire, ablative magical shielding and maneuverability combined with her parameters means that she can fly and fire for a functionally unlimited period of time. What weaknesses she has physically can be augmented by her magical abilities, that maneuver she pulled with breaking my arm was her funneling her magic into a kinetic strike, not so much relying on her own Strength as that of her magic. I thought she was a Rider at first, but that’s not the case is it?”  
  
“No. Her class parameters are Item Construction and Territory Construction, both at B+, so she’s a Caster.”_  
  
There’s a pause as Archer hums in thought. _“It would be unwise to rely on that. There are certain Servants whose capabilities are wide enough that they can qualify for skills outside their immediate class. Semiramis of Assyria was an Assassin capable of drawing forth the capabilities of both an Assassin and a Caster. Considering her history and how she fought, I wouldn’t be surprised if Degurechaff was a Caster capable of drawing forth her capabilities as an Archer.”  
  
“So an Archer doesn’t actually have to be an Archer, huh?” _Rin smirked, with Archer making a vaguely affronted sound beside her.  
  
 _“Don’t be smart with me.”  
  
“Impossible, I’m afraid.” _Rin mentally shrugged with a smile. _“But we’ll have to consider that all this information may possibly be counterfeit. The Kaiserin was famed for deceiving and outmaneuvering her opponents in life, and for all we know she has some personal skill that allows her to bypass my magecraft.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean we should dismiss what we’ve seen, and I will operate with the information available. We can’t be drawn into a battlefield she had prepared if her Territory Construction is as high as it is, and her Item Construction could explain why her Master’s weapons were as effective as they were. Then there’s her personal skills-“  
  
“There’s no way of knowing the effect of any personal skills she may have.” _Rin concluded. _“For someone as storied and long lived as her, she could have any number of skills relating to her accomplishments and victories. I’ll give it a look and do a deep dive in my library later. The Tohsaka collection is large, and even if Kotomine ‘borrowed’ some of the books I’m sure we can figure out something relating to her-“_  
  
“Miss Tohsaka?”  
  
Rin blinked, turning aside to find the Kaiserin disconcertingly close to her, ice blue eyes staring into her eyes. The magus felt her heart beat faster, a strange sort of fight or flight reaction that colored her cheeks slightly before she could get a chance to respond. From beside her, Rin heard Archer’s long-suffering sigh.  
  
“Yes, Tanya?”  
  
“May I take it that you are communicating with your Servant at this moment?”  
  
For a moment Rin’s mind leapt back into the past, to all the stories about Tanya von Degurechaff. That she was a clairvoyant beyond compare, that she could read minds just from a casual glance, that she always knew more about you than you could possibly know about yourself. She remembered thinking how silly all that talk was, how foolish all the people seemed to be for falling for such obvious lies.  
  
Rin found her lips to be uncomfortably dry. Smiling, she willed her heart to slow to a more reasonable pace even as she was surprised that she hadn’t dropped dead from a heart attack yet. “And if I was?”  
  
She-That-Once-Defeated-A-Country-In-A-Week smiled, and Rin found that her throat was dry now as well. How remarkable. “Yes well, considering the rules of neutrality regarding the Church, and also that we ourselves are currently in a temporary truce, I wonder whether I would be able to talk to your Archer for a while? Obviously, you Masters would enter the church and converse with the Priest as you like, but I’d rather not pass the time by staring into the darkness for an attack that wouldn’t come.”  
  
The Master found herself blinking quickly, confusion evident in her face as she realized she hadn’t angered the Devil in some way. “I…excuse me?”  
  
The Kaiserin sighed, a surprisingly human sentiment that aroused some degree of empathy from Rin. Empathy that was quickly squashed as she rationalized that it was probably just another ploy to generate that sympathy in the first place.  
  
“I suspect that as you Masters converse with the Priest, that we would likely become bored while waiting you see. Considering that, I thought that why not us Servants have a chat of our own while our Masters talked inside! I’m sure there are vanishingly few occasions when Heroic Spirits like us would be summoned, and it would be such a shame that we would spend an entire war without being able to talk to each other no?”  
  
Rin’s mind swirled, her thoughts travelling back to the stories. Of how Tanya had talked and swindled the diplomats of three different nations to ensure her country’s independence. Of how Tanya, through sheer dint of diplomacy and magnetic charisma, had shattered the communist bloc into a dozen different pieces, absorbing more than half into OZEV itself. Of how Tanya had been in politics for the better part of eight decades, _and that letting such a political animal have the ear of her Servant was a **spectacularly** bad idea-_  
  
“I’d be delighted to.” Archer said, smiling as he manifested himself and Rin suppressed the urge to curse aloud. “She’s right you know, Rin. There’s just not a lot of opportunities for Heroes like ourselves to just sit back and relax.”  
  
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tohsaka.” Emiya-The-Idiot spoke aloud, smiling towards his own Servant who merely looked on, impassive and uncaring. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Didn’t you say that with three Servants in a single location, people would be crazy to attack us? I’m sure we’re all perfectly safe.”  
  
Tanya smiled as well, and unlike Archer’s smile which just seemed to be nearly mocking, and Emiya’s which was just some idiotic, trusting, grin, she couldn’t help but sense some degree of polite viciousness in the girl’s smile. No doubt it was just her imagination, or perhaps she just needed some sleep, but this couldn’t be a good idea, right?  
  
The Kaiserin waved as Emiya almost literally dragged her to the church, Isabel walking professionally beside her as they entered the parish grounds and the gate slowly swung shut behind them. Rin watched with horrified eyes as the Devil turned to her Servant, speaking something just out of ear shot. Absurdly, Archer _smiled_ , a low chuckle echoing across the lawn as a chill went up her spine.  
  
This…. was definitely not a good idea, right?


	15. 2.4

2.4

I was never a very social person, it was a factor of myself that I had recognized early on in my first life. There was a degree of discomfort at the beginning due to not really understanding the rules of social interaction, a problem which hampered my earliest attempts at interacting with my peer group. I certainly wouldn’t have described myself as one of those sad, awkward, otaku types that abandoned society en masse, but it took me longer than I would have liked to learn all the rules that Japanese society demanded from its citizens.

When I was transported to this world, there was a similar level of readjustment necessary in adapting to a European culture. Thankfully, by virtue of being a child, any such mistakes I had early on were dismissed as a curious child’s preciousness, so I never had any embarrassing incidents at the time. Not that such a period of adjustment lasted for very long, considering how young I was when I was thrown into the armed services, but I appreciated what time I had to get my bearings.

The point being, that in those sorts of situations I always had some idea as to the unwritten rules of how conversation was supposed to go. When I was working as a salaryman, the rules of social conduct and corporate hierarchy meant that the chain of command was easy enough to understand, the path to promotion reasonable enough to pursue. In the military, the hierarchy was even more stringent, but the path to promotion was far more simplified; shoot at the enemy and survive, ensure your men’s survival then be rewarded with further responsibilities. My time in politics allowed for more flexibility in interacting with others, but that hierarchical aspect remained. I was fairly certain that I could count the number of times I spoke with an equal inthe span of a year on one hand, and considering the nature of my position they were rarely opportunities to relax.

I paused for a moment, considering. There was my wife of course, but that was a different kind of ‘opportunity to relax’.

So, from that point of view, approaching the other Servants was rather intimidating. I suppose that if one were to perceive it in a Japanese context, and considering the youth of my own legend, one could consider them to be my seniors. After all, it was one thing to become a Heroic Spirit with all the advantages of modern communications and the growing globalization of society and the like, another thing entirely when living in an era where the fastest mode of communication was a bumpkin on a horse. That my name rose to the Throne of Heroes was, in a manner of speaking, something of a cheat. I doubted that the other Servants would see me in a positive light, I imagined it would be something much like a corporate lifer watching sullenly as their boss’s kid relative got to jump feet first into the company through sheer nepotism. It must be galling really, and I truly did wish that the Holy Grail had given me something more useful than understanding modern slang in a language I already knew, perhaps a textbook on how to interact with my ‘coworkers’.

And I had to talk to them, of course. The efforts of a dedicated group would always outstrip that of a singular individual and regardless of the fact that this contest has us at each other’s throats, a functional alliance between even two Servants could shift the landscape of the war. It was a more diplomatic course of action than what most would pursue I’m sure, but so what? If brute force was all that was necessary to win this war, then we would all have been summoned as mindless, guileless, Berserkers.

That we retained our personalities and free will, despite the fact that doing so added a dimension of difficulty for our Masters, meant that the designers for this contest considered the risk worthwhile. As the old adage dictated, two heads are better than one, and the skills, perspectives and insights that a Heroic Spirit could add to a discussion would be worth its weight in gold. A Master intending to use their Servant as a tool without reservation may have the advantage of sheer force on his side, but would not be able to reap the same benefits that cooperating with the Servant would give. It was even baked into the Command Seals themselves; one could either waste their time and their resources compelling their Servants to obedience, or use those very same Seals in combination with a willing Servant to achieve the impossible. Cooperation was always more beneficial than domination, and it was a design philosophy I fully intended to practice with my coworkers.

The gate closed shut behind our Masters, the safety of our wards ensured by the priest, and I turned to the Archer. He gave me a curious look, the amused smile he had held for his Master slowly retreating into a more passive mask. It was an interesting hint; did it mean that his interactions with his Master was a deliberate ploy to obscure his real personality? Was it a way to set her at ease? An interesting strategy, though didn’t think would work for my own Master. Galliasta seemed far more hands off in dealing with me than Tohsaka was when dealing with her Servant, but Archer's chosen ploy was something to take note of. Especially considering that I was planning on replacing him eventually.

Tohsaka Rin herself was an interesting topic. For all that she was the representative of her Family, she was still a young girl at heart. I could understand that to a degree, though if I were pressed I’d have to admit that any understanding on my part would only go so far as an intellectual level. My mind was fully formed the moment I entered this world and I highly doubted that undergoing puberty while knee deep in some bloody trench in the ass end of the world would properly equip me in empathizing with the average teenage girl.

I turned to the Archer, a frown on my face. “Archer, I’ve been thinking this for a while now, but do I make your Master uncomfortable?”

The other Servant blinked, a look of confusion on his face for the briefest of moments before it was overshadowed with realization. A grin crept across his face, a deeply amused, incredulous, smile that did nothing to suppress the deep chuckle that echoed out of his throat. Across the shut gate, I heard the yelp of what sounded like a small animal, though I ignored it. My gaze remained firmly plastered unto the other Servant, even as he tried to get his chuckles under control.

“Well since you asked, then yes I suppose you do.” Archer chuckles. “Rin was talking to me about it actually, the poor girl just needed someone to talk to about everything that's happened really.”

I suppressed a flinch. That certainly wasn’t good, but what else should I have expected? People didn’t typically react well to traumatic experiences, and a brush with death at the hands of an enemy Servant would certainly count as traumatic. That she seemed to retreat into the Archer’s metaphorical arms so as to deal with it didn’t bode well for a potential future with her as my Master, though considering that Archer felt it was fine to tell me that indicated that he wasn't under explicit orders to keep it to himself. Probably a good thing? If one was inclined to antagonism against someone, it was not often one would admit to weakness towards that person. Or perhaps he had revealed their closeness as a means to intimidate me, his way of telling me to back away from his Master?

With a flicker of power, my body rose from the ground and settled down upon one of the pillars that served as the cornerstone for the church gate. Archer merely looked on curiously while Saber steadfastly ignored us. The swordswoman seemed uninterested in joining our conversation, instead opting to stand a few paces forward, visor pointed downhill like some motionless statue. She wasn’t armed, her sword hidden away, but even without it the stench of violence hung thick in the air.

“You’re her Servant, do you have a suggestion for something I could offer her by way of apology?” I mused. “I’d offer chocolates, but I don’t think that’s properly regretful, and a card seems too casual. I doubt that they make ‘Sorry I shot you, would you like to be friends?’ cards anyway.”

“Something tells me that I should feel vaguely insulted.” Archer mused. “Don’t I warrant an apology? You didn’t even land a solid hit on her, but we both know you had me dead to rights with that little trick of yours.”

I blinked. Ah, that was true. “Well, I’m almost certain that chocolates wouldn’t work on you either. Would you like a card though? I’m fairly certain that there’s no card that properly encapsulates our entire fight, but I can look if that would make you feel better. If worst comes to worst, I could find a couple of different cards and string them together, though I think that might take me a while longer. I’m not very good with arts and crafts you see.”

Archer snorted. “Now you’re just mocking me.”

“No sir, I am not.” I replied dutifully. “If my wife was here she’d offer apologies on my behalf due to my rotten sense of humor, so instead I’d simply apologize for myself if you like. Either the incident itself or for my sense of humor, your choice.”

The Servant shook his head slowly, bemusement coloring his face. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you? We’re all going to be doing more than our fair share of butchery before the war’s over, I doubt I could find another Servant in the war that would be genuinely regretful for trying to win it. If you’re going to apologize every time, it’ll become tiresome in the long run.”

“True.” I conceded. “So, I’m thankful then that I’m only apologizing to you and Tohsaka, not the rest of the combatants in this war. After all, the odds of us joining hands together into an alliance is high, and I rather none of us have any hard feelings towards the other.”

He shook his head, amusement still evident in his tone. “Wouldn’t that be something. With all the stories about you, I was expecting someone more conniving or deceptive. You hardly seem like the duplicitous devil that some of Rin’s books painted you as.”

Rin had books on me? How peculiar. “Well, I prefer that all members in a partnership be operating in good faith with one another. If our partnership is less ‘alliance’ and more ‘barely restrained tension and murderous rage’, then I don’t foresee such an alliance lasting long. Such coalitions should be made with mutual benefit in mind, there is no requirement that we need hate each other to participate in the war after all. We are all here to fulfill a function, to serve our Masters and claim the Holy Grail, to foster negative feelings atop that is irrational. Thus, it would be to my disadvantage if I’ve unintentionally fostered any negative feelings, so if there’s anything you’d like to say to me, I’d be more than happy to talk to you about it.”

Silence fell between the two of us, long enough that I began to wonder if I’d made some kind of social faux pas that I wasn’t aware of. Thankfully, before I could embarrass myself further, the Archer spoke.

“Why did you miss the first time? When you were shooting at Rin?”

I was taken aback for a moment, before I rallied. “Excuse me?”

“Rin might not have noticed it, or maybe she just thinks that she’s such an ultimate magus that her life wasn’t _really_ in that much danger.” He noted dryly. “But you and I know better. When you were right next to her, you’d moved fast enough that I don’t think either of us would have been able to stop you from drilling a bullet in her head. You deliberately missed your first shot and it gave Rin enough time to protect herself from the follow up. Why did you miss?”

At the back of my mind, an analytical part of me put a little checkmark next to my mental compendium of Archer and Tohsaka, noting that they didn’t seem to have an effective response to my speed. “Well, I didn’t _know_ that she was a magus, so why would I jump to the conclusion that she was a Master? For all I knew, she was some civilian running around like some headless chicken and I’m not about to execute some hapless idiot for being in the same battlefield I was.”

“Typical civilians don’t rush headlong into the kind of battlefield we were in. We were in a residential area, Miyama Town is home to several dozen families, nearly a hundred people around our effective combat area. But instead of running headlong into battle like Rin did, the vast majority of them did the smart thing and hung back, or simply ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction. That she was moving towards us should have been suspicious enough, but that she reacted to you at all would have been ample evidence of her status as a magus. A regular human wouldn’t have been able to blink in response to your arrival, yet Rin was capable of at least a token degree of resistance against you.”

I remained quiet, and Archer continued to talk. “The strategy Rin and I concocted afterwards presupposed that you were going to go after her. You were fast enough that if we didn’t plan specifically for it you would have been able to slip past our defenses, but instead of doing the smart thing and rushing for her throat you continued to play keep away. It was deliberately contradictory, egregiously so when you’d already shown a capacity to eliminate a potential enemy Master. What’s more, you went after Rin with the assumption that she was a civilian as well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were capable of moving faster now that you were no longer shackled by the uncertainty of Rin being a civilian. If you moved with the intent to kill, I wouldn’t be a hundred percent certain we could have stopped you.”

He turned away from the street, looking over to me, grey eyes piercing and analytical. “So why didn’t you kill Rin when you had the chance?”

My breathing stilled and I kept my gaze steady on his as my mind raced for a way out of this predicament. If Archer found out that I was positioning myself as an alternative to him, I doubted this conversation would remain civil for very long. I’d presumed that in the heat of battle against an unknown foe, he would have been too busy to really pay attention, but I suppose that for all the years I’d lived I was still naive. I was up against the best and greatest mankind had to offer, of course he would see through such an obvious ploy. I thought for a few moments, before turning away.

“Did you know, I met a young girl earlier?” I noted idly. “Einzbern, Master of Berserker.”

Archer tilted his gaze away from me at my words, eyes pointed straight into the darkness, his focus so absolute that it looked as though he was barely even breathing. From a distance I hear the clanking of steel plates as Saber moved slightly, before returning to her ready position. “Oh? And how’s that relevant?”

“It got me to thinking really.” I mused. “All Heroic Spirits leave their mark on history in some form or another, that’s just natural to the process, but this war in particular is set in an era where my ripples are still echoing out. I may be dead, but my influence is still felt, and while I’m sure that one day I’ll be forgotten and my history reduced to an amusing factoid on the back of soft drink bottle caps, I’m aware enough to know that day isn’t now.”

“I didn’t take you for the conceited type.” Archer commented. I scoffed.

“Oh, believe me, if I could cure the populace of this ridiculous hero worship of me I would have done so a long time ago. Society doesn’t grow in a healthy way by being shackled to the past, and I never had any intention of living my life the way I had. I never wanted to be in the position I was in, to be looked up to and borderline worshiped, but it happened anyway. No matter our actions and no matter our wishes, the legacies we leave behind are interpreted by the _people_ we leave behind.”

I continue on, my amused tone dissipating as I spoke. “And there are aspects of my legacy that others had latched on to, despite my wishes. I started fighting in the front lines when I was nine years old, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I had to fight, because if I chose to surrender then I would have willingly abandoned whatever ability I still had to influence my fate. The people called me a hero for butchering men and leaving widows in my wake, but all that really mattered to me was that I was doing my job. But that shouldn’t have had to be my job in the first place.”

“When I formed my Mage Corps, I made it very clear that such abhorrent practices would die in the past where they belonged. It was the incompetency of the old Empire that led to the state requiring little girls to fight, and I wasn’t about to let that same stain affect my Corps. There were a few stubborn old men that thought they could go around my order when I set such protections down as law, and suffice to say they didn’t last long. I thought that the problem was thoroughly stamped out by the time I passed, but it seems that wasn’t the case.”

Archer was quiet now, his eyes gracing me with a look I couldn’t quite comprehend. I continued onward. “Once again, I’m participating in a war that treats children as tools of murder. A little girl should not have to worship the legacy of a child soldier, a teenager should not have to risk her life in a contest concocted by her elders before she was even born. Perhaps it’s a bit arrogant of me to presume that I was the reason that these children are being forced to fight in this war, but I’m confident that my existence served as justification for whatever it was they had to go through. I expected to come across skilled combatants and ruthless magi, I expected that I would have to bury more than a few of them before the war was over. I didn’t expect for those combatants to not even be old enough to drink yet.”

I shrugged, breaking eye contact with the Archer. “Not everything I do is calculated, sometimes I just go with my gut. Perhaps the most optimal way I could have played that situation to my advantage was to turn Tohsaka Rin into a bloody smear on the ground and watch you die without a proper mana source. However, I’m unwilling to go to such lengths unless I absolutely have to. If things become antagonistic towards us, I will ask your Master to forfeit. I doubt she will, but at the very least I assuage what passes for my conscience these days if I do.”

The night was silent as I finished, and I felt a weight lessen from my shoulders. Everything I said was true, enough so that I doubt anything I said could be misconstrued as me lying. Whether that would be enough for Archer was another thing entirely, but if it wasn’t then I suppose I’d have to deal with the consequences.

The red coated Servant didn’t speak, his brow furrowed in concentration, and I didn’t think he was really paying attention to me anymore. Well, that wasn’t so bad really. The point of all that was to settle Archer’s paranoia about me, and if he’s not pursuing the topic any further then I can only presume that I succeeded in that front.

“I have something to say, Degurechaff.”

I turned to the side, only to find that the Saber had finally moved from her vigil. She’d turned around, her gaze set solely on me, and for some reason I couldn’t quite figure out there was a tension in the way she stared at me that left me distinctly uncomfortable.

Not for the first time, my thoughts wandered to her Master. Summoning a Servant required a degree of preparation, both in the construction of a magic circle and the acquisition of a catalyst. The boy had said he hadn’t even known about the war, nevermind made any attempt to join it, but there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. Through Isabel’s computation device, I’d seen the magic circle that Emiya had used to summon the Saber. It had been etched onto the ground beforehand, it hadn’t been created haphazardly, which indicated a degree of calculation before summoning the Saber in the first place. It also showed that Emiya lied, which in and of itself wasn’t particularly alarming so I didn’t question him on it. Given his situation, I would have done much the same. After all, if I found myself surrounded by people and entities so fond of throwing magical energy about like it was candy and nearly splattered me across the wall, I’d be more than a little suspicious of them as well.

Of more immediate concern for me was that the very same video that had revealed the magic circle also showed that there was no accompanying catalyst that could have called Saber in the first place. Such a situation wasn’t impossible, at least as far as I was aware, but it certainly didn’t match the apparent care with which the circle had been made. A prospective Master summoning a Servant without a catalyst essentially throws their chances at winning the war into the hands of fate. The Master leaves the process to chance, allowing the Holy Grail to summon a Servant that simply has the maximum degree of compatibility with the magus, which does not necessarily mean one that was powerful enough to help you win the war.

That Emiya summoned such a dark, foreboding, champion had thus left me somewhat wary towards the boy. What dark thoughts and impulses lurked beneath Emiya’s eyes that allowed for him to summon a creature so predisposed to violence in the first place? Every action Saber had committed so far had been cold, ruthless and largely trending towards brutal pragmatism. That in and of itself would quite probably be par for the course for the sort of challenge that this war represented, but paired with what appeared to be a well-meaning Labrador in human form left me feeling a degree of whiplash. It was why I considered the task of turning Tohsaka into my Master a far more attainable goal than Emiya, despite the fact that I’d attacked the former and saved the latter. The lack of information I had on him was worrying, and the fact that his most compatible Servant was essentially a tank in human form was doubly worrying. After all, one had to wonder at what dark impulses lurked beneath Emiya’s psyche for him to be capable of summoning such a creature.

I drew myself away from those thoughts, looking to Saber with curious eyes. “Yes?”

Her voice was cold and haughty, as close to contemptuous as one could get without actually going over the edge. “It pains me to see another Heroic Spirit so timid of her rightful place. If your Kingdom fails to follow your example, fails to follow your orders, then you should correct them personally.”

My brow rose up, while Archer seemed to jerk out of his internal reverie to stare at Saber, though I couldn’t quite see the expression on his face. I assumed it wasn’t anything pleasant. “And how would I do that?”

“Flee from the battlefield for a day or more.” She stated confidently. “Your speed would allow you to reach your homeland with ease, and the sheer magical force you exude as you traverse the continents would alert all to your approach. Once you’d arrived at the capital, you would reveal yourself, take back control of your Kingdom, and purge those that had strayed from your vision as you realign your people towards the desired path.”

“Saber-.” Archer began, his voice cautious, but the swordswoman continued.

“From there, things would be simple. You could take control of your Kingdom’s military, drag them back to Fuyuki, and destroy all that stands in your way through sheer force and overwhelming power. You have twelve opponents that need die before the Holy Grail would reveal itself, with your newfound resources you could crush them all to ash with minimal effort. Heroic Spirits are mighty indeed, but even we would eventually fall to the firepower and mages in your employ. Then, once the dust has settled and we were all dead, you could simply take the Holy Grail and speak your wish.”

I blinked. How thorough. “That would certainly be an interesting path I could take.”

She nodded. “It is what I would do.”

I scratched the back of my ear, rather taken aback by the Saber’s exuberance on the topic, even as Archer turned away from the black swordswoman and towards me. His eyes are calculating, analytical, and I had an idea of what he was thinking about. I waved my hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do that.”

The Archer relaxed imperceptibly, even as the cold expression on Saber’s face somehow grew even more frigid without moving a muscle. How remarkable.

She spoke, her voice as cold as death. “Why?”

“Because I’m dead, and it is no longer the role entrusted to me.” I shrugged. “My people elected me to be their Leader, and while it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I carried out my role to the best of my ability. I did away with the rubble of the past, the primitive ideologies and foolishness that held my people back, and protected them when they were weak. I allowed them to grow strong and move past their humiliations, such that they offered their love to me, though I never wanted it. I am not bound by useless sentimentality, Saber. It was always just a job to me, a function for me to accomplish, nothing more. If I were to return now, all my effort in getting them to make their own path would be blown away into the wind by my presence. It would be narcissism of the highest order, to rob them of their ability to plot their own destiny just so that I could use them to carry out my designs. If I did, I’d have to teach them all over again, and I _really_ have no intention of living another life to do that all over again. It was an entertaining enough ride doing that the first time, but I have no interest doing it again.”

“Then what of your military, you could simply reach out and-“

“Allow men and women to lay down their lives for a cause that has nothing to do with them?” I asked sharply. “To ask them to break their oaths to the state and follow me, retrieve a prize that is meant only for me, and to vanish like a mirage when I was done with them? No, I don’t think so.”

“They are yours.” Saber remarked. “This notion of a state is a curious one, but the State of Germania and OZEV would not have existed at all without you. They did not pledge themselves to their land, they did not pledge themselves to an empty throne. They pledged themselves to you, and to abandon that faith to muck about in the dirt is cowardice of the highest order.”

I stared at Saber, her blank gaze staring back at me, and I noted a curious surge of…something in my breast. Something like disdain, something like rage, and it took me a moment before I could crush it down. I closed my eyes, counted for a few moments, before looking back at her.

“I don’t think you and I will get along very much.”

“Of that, I already knew.” Saber scoffed, turning around and resuming her vigil. “I would advice my Master not to form an alliance with you. I can only hope that he would agree.”

I found my gaze shifting away from the swordswoman, dismissing her from my thoughts and my view. I noted Archer watching me still and I quirked my brow at him. The man smirked, shaking his head to lean back onto the gate.

“No, you’re definitely not what the legends painted you as.”

“Honestly, are any of us truly what the legends say?” I snapped. “Legends are the stories of our followers and our friends, of our rivals and our enemies. They were never meant for those that had passed on, but for those we leave behind. That they fail to show the totality of who we are is only reasonable. People read our stories to be inspired, they are uninterested in the reality of who we really are.”

“Hah, true enough.” Archer sighed. “Though now that you’re talking about what is or isn’t real, I have to ask. Is it true that you weren’t any good at cooking either?”

I paused at that, frowning from the sudden shift in conversation. “I always thought that I was decent, certainly I never heard any complaints.”

“Uh huh.”

“Why do you ask?”

“You were asking about a way to apologize to Rin. I’d suggest making dinner for her, the girl can be surprisingly ravenous, a homecooked meal from you can only end well.”

I mused on that. “I see. Does that mean you accept my apology as well?”

“Sure, let’s say that.” He shrugged. “Not that it matters much in any case, it’s not as though I entered a geas with you. I could simply be saying whatever I needed to for you to lower your guard.”

I nodded in satisfaction, turning my gaze away from the Servant and back to the road. “True enough, but I prefer for things to be clear and outlined.”

“Hmm.”

He went quiet after that, and perhaps I could have grilled him about it more, but I wasn’t about to look a horse in the mouth, or however that particular metaphor went.

In my experience, I’ve found that people generally tend towards being the same. They wish to be good and do good, they want what they think is best for them, they need the respect of their peers. Society’s purpose, more than anything else, was to induct the global masses into the fraternity of modern civilization, and despite the protests of individualistic mavericks and what not, we all originate from the same starting point. Which is to say, there are a certain degree of moral codes and social conducts that everyone would subscribe to at least subconsciously.

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve seen someone try to get out of an obligation via evasions or misunderstandings or taking advantage of any degree of ambiguity, I’d have amassed enough funds to buy an Olympic sized swimming pool to drown all the miserable little bastards in. If I counted both my lives, I’d upgrade that estimation into a beach. I found that it was a rare man that went into a discussion or deal with an ironclad determination to lie. It was much more common for that person to talk themselves into it, deceive themselves into thinking that this one time was an exception, or perhaps generating a library of excuses and self-justifications rather than consider that the fault was on them.

Of course, assuming such social engineering would apply to a Heroic Spirit was rather foolhardy. It was possible that Archer was from a culture so distant from my own that my mental calculation of him was fairly off-center, it could also be that Archer was self-aware enough to be comfortable with lying through his teeth at the very outset.

But considering the information I had available, and the tools on hand, this was the best I could do to control the possibility of him and his Master turning on me without being more proactive about it. With the current situation as it is, I couldn’t risk Archer siding with Saber. If I allowed the result of our first fight to color his decision making, I would be giving him a convenient excuse with which to turn on me. I had to work on getting into their good graces, and if all I had to do was make a meal for Tohsaka then I was more than willing to do it. All things being equal, people made deals and chose sides based on mutual benefit, which meant that I simply had to offer Archer and Tohsaka more than what Emiya and Saber could.

It was clear that Saber wasn’t going to be content with an alliance, which meant I had to figure out a means to neutralize her as soon as possible. Our brief fight earlier indicated that, by ourselves, we probably didn’t have a surefire way of eliminating the other. I had other abilities up my sleeve, but even assuming that I manage to catch her by surprise, I was uncertain on whether I’d possess the sheer firepower necessary to break through her defense. On the positive side, nothing about her capabilities indicated that she would be able to move fast enough to keep up with me, so keeping as far away from her with my mobility seemed fairly doable.

In such a stalemate, both of us would need to be creative, finding allies with which we could use to bring down the other. She would need to find another Servant in the war capable of shooting me down, while I would need to search for a Servant strong enough to break through her defenses. Not exactly easy, but not impossible either. Archer could be a possibility, but the injury I’d inflicted unto him would have crippled his combat ability for the foreseeable future. That I intended to replace him was another thing as well, and I was certain the moment he realized my plans he would side with Saber against me. Not ideal.

There were still two other Servants I’d yet to meet, the Rider and the Assassin, three if I counted Berserker. I was uncertain of their capabilities, so I’d need to reach out to see if any of them would be useful against Saber, perhaps utilize the Tresillo to-

A loud vibration echoed within my pockets, pulling me away from my thoughts and drawing my gaze downward. Archer looked up at me, curious, while Saber inclined her head softly towards me. Archer scoffed, amusement coloring his tone.

“Did you really go that entire fight with a phone in your pocket?”

“I suppose so.” I remarked, pulling it out from my jacket. It was a simple smartphone, and I was eternally thankful for the fact it had a touchscreen interface. Spending all those years in that unpleasant between zone of ‘cellphones existing’ and ‘cellphones being more than molded plastic in the shape of a brick’ was incredibly uncomfortable.

My gaze settled onto the screen, the number vaguely familiar as it tickled my memory. I found my thumb gracing onto the accept button, my hand bringing the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

A loud, vengeful, screech could be heard from the other line, one of such pristine, gilrish, outrage that I wondered whether it would be capable of bursting my eardrums. Archer grimaced at the sound, a look of pain crossing his face. Saber herself was looking at my direction, a frown creasing her features as the girl on the other side of the line continued bellowing out her rage.

“Taaaaanyaaaaaaaaaaaa!” The Einzbern Master screamed in apoplectic fury. “What did you do to my onii chan?!?”


	16. 2.5

2.5

I blinked, my voice turning polite and respectful in a split second. “Ah, Miss Einzbern. A pleasure to hear your voice again, how have you been?”

I wasn’t particularly adept at handling children. I recognized that I was a bit too serious, a bit too intimidating, for most to truly consider me likeable. However, what with the tiresome necessity of politics and interaction with the populace that comes with it, I’d developed some methods by which I could better neutralize children before they could become a significant problem. While methods varied depending on personality, mood and age of the children themselves, usually treating them seriously as adults tended to work out. Little girls in particular seemed to respond positively towards being treated as serious little ladies, though the specific reason why seemed to escape me. I supposed that with the typical parental tendency towards babying one’s child, being treated as serious and important may be a remarkable change of pace for them.

Regardless of the reason, the effect was immediate and noticeable. The voice on the other side of the connection stuttered, the bone splitting rage present just moments before stalling at my response like a spluttering flame.

“I-I-I’ve been okay!” she shot back, her voice filled with emotion as she continued onwards. “I’ve been playing with your phone! It’s good! Thank you for the gift!”

I nodded, ignoring the bizarre look that Archer was giving me. “I’m glad you liked it. Next time we can have dinner and you can tell me if you had any problems with it. I’m not entirely familiar with the most recent developments in smartphone tech, but I’m sure I can figure it out for you. After a certain degree, innovation in commercial designs naturally plateau, so I doubt the differences are that _-_ ”

“I-I-okay, but-Anyway!” she struggled through, and I could sense Einzbern forcing away her hesitation through sheer force of will. “I heard of what you did! You attacked my oni-chan! You burned down his house!”

I frowned, blinking. Well, I didn’t know anything about deliberately attacking an Einzbern holding, especially not after talking with her so soon. Following up my diplomatic efforts with assaulting an Einzbern property was idiotic to the extreme, and for a moment I considered whether it was the action of another enemy seeking to smear my good name by placing the blame on me. I was about to comment so in fact, noting as well that I wasn’t aware of any such event within the past few hours, before I paused.

During the fight with Archer, I’d inadvertently destroyed a house, didn’t I? Was that why she was upset, that my fight with Tohsaka’s Servant had brought us directly into conflict within her territory? From my scans of the house, and from the feed I was getting directly from Isabel at the time, there wasn’t anyone else in that house besides her and Emiya. That I’d inadvertently blown up an Einzbern property without prior research and consideration of the consequences was less than encouraging. It was downright unsettling that I’d made such a strategic blunder without even really thinking about it really, and if I was still in the military I was certain that Lergen would have had some choice words for my incompetence.

Still, if it was _just_ having destroyed the Einzbern property, it wouldn’t be so bad. Property can be rebuilt, fines and fees paid as an apology, but there had been another Einzbern in that house supposedly. A man, a brother perhaps, and the Einzbern Master seemed to believe that I’d deliberately hurt that person, that I’d attacked him, which was rather preposterous really. I had scanned down that house prior the assault, I noted the lack of activity within the house even with Isabel and Emiya barging into the property at lightning speed, and all the video evidence from my “Master’s” computation device showed no one else within the property. It was likely that the other Einzbern was simply in another part of the city at the time of the attack, and that she was merely mistaken. Of course, in my experience, telling little girls to their face that they were wrong was an experience no one _really_ wanted.

“I’m very sorry that I accidentally destroyed that house, Miss Einzbern.” I apologized as genuinely as I could. “But I promise you that, as far as I’m aware, there was no one else in the house when it was destroyed. It was not a deliberate attempt at attacking your property, more a necessity due to the nature of the situation.”

“An apology doesn’t cut it!” Einzbern growled, though with the benefit of distance and not being directly threatened by the magus personally, her growl just sounded adorable. “You can’t just blow up other people’s stuff! It’s very impolite! How would you feel if I went over there, found your cute Master and ripped her to shreds in front of you?!”

I frowned. So she had a surveillance system in place, one with enough fidelity to have seen Isabel or to overhear our conversation. It was a valuable tidbit of information, atop my bemusement at her priority regarding her property. Was she more upset with the house being destroyed or that I’d almost ‘killed’ her brother? That she was threatening me barely deserved a response, I recognized a negotiating tactic when I saw one after all, and so I easily maintained my balance. “Rest assured, Miss Einzbern, I had no intention of-“

“Ilya!”

“Right, Ilya.” I sighed. “If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have done any of that in the first place. I was engaged in combat, with multiple Servants, and the house was a collateral. If you’d like, you could send me a receipt for the cost of the property and we can work something out.”

“’Wouldn’t have done any of that in the first place’. Ha! So you do admit-, wait what?”

I paused, before repeating myself. “I said that if you’d like, you could simply send me a receipt for the cost of the property and-“

“No not that!” the girl growled, impatience tinging her tone. “You said you were in combat with a Servant? Multiple Servants?”

I turned to the side, noting Saber staring curiously back at me, her blank stare and dark visor insufficient in masking her interest in my conversation. Archer wasn’t even looking at me anymore, his eyes scanning the surrounding street with that eagle like attention common to his class. My attention swiveled back to the girl. “Yes, absolutely.”

“You’re not lying to me are you?” she asked again, the anger in her tone dropping as it was slowly replaced with a building curiosity. I felt my frown grow deeper.

She knew of my movements, she knew that I was masking Isabel as my ‘Master’, hinting that her surveillance system was at least somewhat expansive. Not at all surprising, considering the wealth and age of the Einzberns. That they could maintain such a surveillance system was well within their expected capabilities, yet judging by her apparent confusion she was working off of incomplete information. Enough to know that I’d blown up one of her properties, not enough to know that I did it due to combat with a Servant. Enough to know that I would have endangered her brother, but not enough to know that her brother wasn’t even on the premises. It was unusual, implying that something very strange was going on with the Einzbern surveillance system.

Perhaps their system wasn’t all that expansive, which made sense considering that they were operating on Tohsaka territory. I could easily see the Tohsaka having some means to decrease the fidelity of their surveillance so as to keep the other Families blind or otherwise deceive their senses. Yet at the same time, Einzbern’s words seemed to indicate that she didn’t even know I’d fought with anyone, never mind two Servants. Considering that I only really blew up the house in the first few seconds of the battle, and that the vast majority of the time was me fighting two other Servants, meant that it was safe to assume the Einzberns weren’t operating with the full picture. In such a scenario, further obfuscation of the facts wouldn’t help me; clarification of the situation was the best move forward.

“No, I’m not lying. I really was in combat.” I explained patiently. “I was attempting to rescue my Master and an uninvolved civilian from an enemy Servant, and during my attempts to rescue them both I had to destroy the house. Shortly thereafter, the civilian contracted, and I briefly dueled the Saber due to a misunderstanding of the situation.”

There was silence on the line, and I held my breath as the girl, presumably, absorbed what I was saying. The other Servants had heard what I’d said, essentially giving away integral information to the enemy, but they hadn’t yet done anything about it. I imagined I was going to get an earful later.

“I see.” Einzbern muttered, her voice dispassionate. It didn’t sound like she was about to explode and blame me for the structural damage, but it didn’t sound like she was happy with me either. I thought for a moment.

On the one hand, I could give Einzbern information regarding Saber and Archer. It would almost certainly put me into her good graces, but would definetly sink any potential alliance I would have with the two. While it was true that Saber herself had professed to wanting nothing to do with me, she was ultimately beholden to her Master who, potentially concerning dark-side notwithstanding, seemed to think of me positively. What’s more, by betraying information about Saber over to Einzbern, I would also be showing Archer that I wasn’t at all trustworthy, that I was willing to sell out anyone so as to get ahead. Not at all ideal, all things considered.

At the same time, it was obvious that the girl was upset. Or at least, something had disturbed her enough that she didn’t seem quite in the mood to go after Isabel. I had no doubts that Einzbern distrusted me, which was a completely reasonable stance to take, but that doubt did me no good. We were still in the early days of the war, battle lines had yet to be drawn, and if Tohsaka was unwilling to form an alliance with me then Einzbern was a viable alternative.

Which meant I needed a way to ease her doubts, not so much earn her trust as it was to ease her distrust. I couldn’t just give Einzbern nothing, not after she was so kind as to clarify her issues with me before trying to kill me. That she had yet to commit to anything showed that she was still struggling on what to do, which meant I had a degree of flexibility in how I could play the situation.

I was essentially casting doubt on her own intelligence services, which was a risky move at best. I was essentially telling her to trust me over whatever resources she had, and in doing so I was putting myself in danger. Should she decide that I was deceiving her, she could simply decide to remove me from the board before any of the other players as punishment for attempting to lie to her. On the other hand, If I could somehow survive this situation, then I would have neutralized Einzbern in the short term while potentially leading her to another target.

“I think I have a lead on Assassin.”

The response was immediate, a small ‘eep’ that the girl quickly tried to suppress. I took that as a positive and continued onwards.

“Something happened in Ryuudou Temple.” I began. “The entire property was cleared out, the monks murdered, very few survivors. When I was there earlier, I had the opportunity to study the scene, and the way they were killed was unnatural. Too many monks slain where they stood, too few of them responding in time and too few survivors if it had been a mundane attack. I suspect it was Assassin, no other class would have been able to execute it such an attack so smoothly and so quickly.”

A beat of silence from her before she spoke again. “Why are you telling me this?”

I shrugged. “Just because we’re in this contest doesn’t mean we must be monsters. More than that, you were nice enough to tell me about the situation with your ‘onii-chan’ before butchering me with your Berserker. I’m quite sure that if you tried I’d lose, the Einzberns wouldn’t have summoned a weak Servant after all, so I’m actually glad to hear from you. I’m sure that you’re under a lot of pressure with the war, and this situation is no place for a little girl like you, so I thought it only fair we share information. We might not be allies, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil with each other.”

There was another pause, long enough this time that I almost assumed that the girl had hung up on me, before she spoke again.

“Hah!” the little Einzbern scoffed, a loud, explosive, sound that caught me by surprise. “Do you think a little thing like that’s enough to appease me? You think that giving me information is nearly enough? Ridiculous! I’m Ilyasviel von Einzbern! You could blow up a hundred houses and it wouldn’t make a dent to our fortune!”

I blinked. “Yes, but-“

“No, no!” she interrupted, and I could hear a faint thumping which may have been the girl stomping onto the ground. “You want to appease me? Fine! We’re having dinner tomorrow night-, er, its past midnight isn’t it? Later tonight! You’re going to impress me, and then after that maybe I’ll forgive you!”

I blinked more. “Well, if you insist but-“

“So you agree!” she crowed triumphantly. “Okay! Pick me up in that funny little café we met, around seven! Okay, goodnight!”

“Wait I-“

The dull, blinking tone of the cellphone’s receiver met my somewhat exasperated words, and I looked down to the phone feeling somewhat perplexed. That wasn’t usually how conversations went, was it?

“What just happened?”

I looked at Archer, and whatever look I had on my face seemed sufficient to lure out a hearty chuckle from the man.

* * *

Conversation didn’t flow easily after that. Despite the fact that we were all in the middle of a ceasefire, we _were_ still tasked with keeping an eye out. The odds of an enemy Servant picking a fight against three different Servants while defending the church was so astronomical as to be effectively zero, but it was bad form to slack on the job. Saber continued to be the implacable, silent, guardian by the gate while Archer and I took posts with a higher vantage point. The red robed Servant was no longer corporeal, invisible to conventional senses while I remained seated atop the church itself. I presumed that his decision to revert to spirit form had more to do with recovering from his injuries and conserving his strength than any distaste with me conversing with the Einzbern Master.

Ilya’s demand was suitably minor as far as concessions went, a dinner wasn’t exactly a war losing proposition. I doubt that they’d do something as obvious as an assassination attempt during the dinner, mostly due to practical concerns rather than any ethical issues. Any poison they try to feed me that potent enough to kill me would light up in my senses as obviously magical, and as far as I was aware my legend didn’t include some weak sauce weakness like a distaste for alcohol or death by cheese. More straightforward ways of eliminating me would be a risky proposition with the Einzbern Master so close to me, even assuming that whatever preparations they had would trigger without issue, I was fairly confident I was fast enough on the draw to kill Einzbern before they could stop me. This wasn’t even mentioning that due to the fact that they offered to me the location of the meeting I would be able to arrive some hours beforehand to scan through it for any potential danger as well as establish countermeasures should things turn violent. Had Einzbern been more cautious, or simply been aiming for an assassination attempt in the first place, she wouldn’t have been so willing to allow me any level of foresight on the location and simply told me about a new location minutes before the dinner was due. My departure from the Kotomine parish to the Einzbern household wasn’t exactly subtle, and they would be aware of my ability to move so fast assuming their intelligence service wasn’t literally asleep on the job.

All in all, I wasn’t too worried about the dinner itself. Of considerably more concerned were the consequences of me accepting dinner with Einzbern.

Archer and Saber had heard my conversation. Sure, they weren’t exactly putting their ears to the receiver and hanging on my every word, but they were still Servants. Their senses were doubtlessly more acute than a normal person’s, and I wouldn’t have put it past them to have essentially heard the entire conversation. As such, both parties I’d been interacting with were likely aware that I’d been contacted. More to the point, Tohsaka would be aware soon, if not at this very moment, that I’d had some level of prior contact with the Einzberns. Emiya would be less of a concern, as I imagine that his Labrador retriever act shouldn’t wither so easily what with another competitor involved, but I couldn’t be sure of that either.

My awareness of the history between the Tohsakas and the Einzberns was greatly limited, largely due to the fact that any such information would be heavily censored by either family. Reports of the previous wars were sporadic and not at all clear; the Three Families had judiciously kept as much information as they could of their little contest as contained as possible, and any information that _did_ leak would be jealously collected by families like the El-Melloi or the Animuspheres. What _was_ certain was that something occurred during the previous war that set the Tohsaka-Einzbern relations from frigid to sub-zero, which also saw the Tohsaka patriarch expiring for yet another unclear reason.

It was incredibly frustrating operating with such limited information, but such was the nature of this war. That Tohsaka was now aware of my interaction with the Einzberns meant that I would likely be called upon to make a stand regarding my potential ‘allegiance’ soon. Either Tohsaka would understand that the Einzbern Master was outside of my control and I was not at all a sleeper agent sent by their faction, or Tohsaka _would_ consider me a threat and all potential of an alliance would wither away in the wind. As such, if Tohsaka moved to eliminate me as a potential threat, the current state of Tohsaka-Einzbern relations meant that the most rational choice would then be to ensure an alliance with the Einzberns as well. Unity against a common foe was always a reliable cause to forge an alliance, but basic game theory is rarely enough to ensure such an alliance’s stability. I would most likely need to offer Einzbern something additional in exchange, information on Tohsaka perhaps?

While a relatively recent development, it wasn’t completely unexpected for me. Considering my status as a Servant, it would have been irresponsible of me to not consider every possibility as I entered the war. An alliance with one of the Three Families was always ideal due to their accumulated experience and the wealth of resources available to them, and what with the decay of the Matou, that simply left either the Einzberns or the Tohsaka as the most likely candidates. Ideally, I would be able to replace their Servants shortly thereafter, but that was easier said than done.

I was aware of Archer’s capabilities and limits, I’d already fought and wounded him after all. Admittedly, he was likely keeping more of his cards in reserve, but I was at least somewhat confident of his capabilities. But Berserker? Berserker was a blank slate entirely, beyond a thirst for violence and blind loyalty to its Master in any case. Undoubtedly their power would be outstanding, assured of overwhelming me if necessary, and so while an alliance with the Einzbern would be beneficial for the both of us, the balance of such an alliance favors them more than me. To have a partner they were more or less guaranteed to be able to defeat in battle meant that I would be forced into a time limit to neutralize him before I was forced into a no-win scenario against him.

Which meant that, until I learned anything more from my meeting with the Einzberns later tonight, my best bet was still siding with the Tohsaka. A fairly neat conclusion, all things considered, and one I was fairly certain would collapse with whatever Einzbern’s subsequent offer was later tonight. Nonetheless, it was good to have a working plan to follow through even for a moment, uncertainty in any strategy was always unpleasant to deal with.

The doors of the Church creaked open, the sounds of conversation following immediately after. Well, less conversation and more what sounded like an aggrieved cat screeching in frustration. I stood from my vantage point above the roof of the church, noting that Archer’s presence around me had already gone, most likely already by his Master’s side. I took a step over the edge, my magic gently lifting me towards the church entrance, as more and more of the situation revealed itself at my approach.

Tohsaka was angry. Entertainingly angry yes, in the sense that a snarling feline was somewhat adorable in its fury, but dangerous nonetheless. The target of her ire was somewhat more unclear, shifting between the quietly waiting priest with the smug smile and the far more taciturn, but no less smug, nun by his side. Someway distant to the trio was Emiya and Isabel, the former looking as though he had a ticking timebomb strapped to his chest, with the latter looking as though she wanted to be anywhere but where she currently was. I gently touched down next to my ‘Master’, who graced me with something of a relieved smile.

“Trouble?”

“Something like that.” Isabel gulped, glancing over at Tohsaka before going back to me. “I thought you were listening in, what with the uh, you know.”

She glanced down below and even with the bulkiness of her suit in the way I knew she was motioning to her computation device. “I’m almost certain that the priest has some way of monitoring us.” I note quietly. “He knows things he shouldn’t, I suspect kind of spell connected to us Servants, and until we figure out how he knows things I want to keep our communications as non-magical as possible. At least when within his presence.”

It wasn’t as though I distrusted the Priest, he’d been nothing but courteous and polite so far, but an inbuilt weakness accessible to one was a weakness that could be accessible by all. The Priest might be neutral now, but should he choose to no longer be neutral I refused to be so easily neutralized. Admittedly it wasn’t the only reason, but I wasn’t about to explain the Einzbern situation to Isabel while within earshot of Tohsaka. I turned my attention away from Isabel and towards the trio.

“This is _unacceptable_ , Kirei.” Tohsaka growled, her tone radioactive with anger. “I’m the Head of the Tohsaka, I need to be aware and involved with anything of interest within my city. That you deliberately withheld such information from me, information relevant to the _war_ , is tantamount to an attack on me.”

The Priest smiled, his hands clasped behind his back as his ancient form stood just a little bit taller. “Rin, you are being unreasonable. Of course I respect your status as the Head of the Tohsaka, but as you are not yet of age, it is to be expected that I retain control of certain day to day matters as your father intended-“

“Bullshit, Kirei!” she snapped in response and despite myself I felt my brow raise at the sudden heat. “There’s a world of difference between you managing finances and you allowing stray mages-to-be in my city! You should have let me meet with him at the very least, not keep him hidden from me for god knows how long your little project’s been going on, and certainly not right _after he’s become a Master!”_

Tohsaka’s hand was pointed at my general direction and it took me a moment to realize that she wasn’t pointed at me, so much as Emiya. The boy looked suitably withdrawn, as though wishing the earth would swallow up his body and banish him forevermore, even as Saber stood by her Master’s side. She cut an imposing figure next to the boy, and if it weren’t for the visor obscuring my view I would be certain that Saber’s eyes were pointed directly at the Head of the Tohsaka. My hand raised itself to Isabel’s shoulders and though my touch caused a little jerk of surprise from the girl, she retained enough of her dignity that I don’t think anyone noticed.

The nun stepped forward, instantly attracting the crimson Master’s ire, though she didn’t seem to mind. “Tohsaka-sama, rest assured that it was not the Church’s intent to raise up a competitor against you for this war. Father was simply-“

“I’m sure he can speak for himself, nun.” The girl shot back contemptuously, to which Ortensia merely sighed in response. “What did you teach the boy anyway? Prayer beads? How to go church on Sundays like good little boys? Dare I say you didn’t teach him to be an altar boy did you?”

Ortensia was about to respond when the Priest spoke up. “Rin. The details of who the Holy Grail chooses as its Masters is quite beyond a simple man of god such as I, how was I supposed to know that the boy would be selected?”

Kirei sighed, a distressing lack of authenticity in his tone and I could practically see the blood veins on Tohsaka’s forehead pop. “Blame not Sister Ortensia, for ultimately it was I that allowed the boy to be trained. Truth be told, Emiya has some degree of natural talent as well as a drive to succeed and utilize such talent. Coupled with a distressing lack of opportunity to leverage such talents, how could I call myself an educator and not see such an opportunity flourish?”

“You should have _told_ me, Kirei.” Tohsaka growled. “My Servant was injured in an effort to catch an unaffiliated civilian who turned out to not be so ignorant after all! And he was just sitting there like an idiot, pretending he didn’t know, I bet that was **real** fun to listen to, huh Emiya!?”

She shouted that last part at my direction, and I could see Emiya struggle to formulate a response. “N-no, it’s not like that Tohsaka-san. Kotomine-sama asked me not to tell anyone about my training, he said it was dangerous if anyone else knew!”

Tohsaka whirled back to the Priest and Kotomine nodded. “It’s true. At the time the training took place, Shirou Emiya’s idea of magic was from that of computation orbs and flying among the skies. I had intended to break that troublesome idea by enforcing absolute secrecy from him as his lessons continued and I am eternally thankful that he adapted to the mysteries better than most. As soon as I determined that he was ready for more precise instruction, I tasked Sister Ortensia with his continued education.”

“And when was that?’

The Priest shrugged, smile returning. “Perhaps two years ago.”

At that, Tohsaka reverted into a darkly muttering figure, a supremely hateful glare pointed directly at Kirei, who merely sighed. “Rest assured Rin, I did not forget my responsibilities to you. I would not dare split my attention away from your training and my responsibilities, hence why I elected for Sister Ortensia to be his teacher, an eminently reasonable decision considering that my infirmities have grown worse of late-

“-could drop dead for all I care.” Tohsaka muttered sharply. The Priest ignored her words, though I could barely note his smile inch wider at her words as he continued.

“Though I have taught Karen of my ways, she is nonetheless her own person, and skilled in ways I am not. It seemed a feasible compromise, in that I may see Emiya trained appropriately while keeping my responsibilities to you intact. You may rest easy, Rin. Emiya will not steal me away from you and draw forth your secrets from my mind.”

“He could keep you for all I care.” Tohsaka spat back. “You still haven’t answered my question by the way. If you were so concerned about your _responsibilities_ , why didn’t you simply tell me there was a new magus in the city and not just act on your own?”

Kirei blinked at her words, a mocking pantomime of an aggrieved expression plastering itself onto his face. His tone was almost chiding as he spoke. “As delightful as it would be serving as your mentor for the remainder of my days, I _do_ have other responsibilities, Rin. Emiya approached me not as your representative but as a man of god, and so I carried out my responsibilities as the Head of this Church as appropriate. Though if I would be allowed to make a correction, I would not define Mr. Emiya as a magus per se, he does not possess-

But Tohsaka was no longer listening to the Priest, the girl marching past the two and towards my direction until she found herself inches away from Emiya himself, a blinding intensity emanating from her eyes that compelled even the boy to avert her gaze. His passivity didn’t seem to please her though, as Tohsaka’s hand reached out to grab Emiya by the jaw, her steel grip forcing him to look her in the eyes.

Saber reacted near instantly, her dark blade settling into her hand as she turned towards Tohsaka. The crimson clad woman didn’t even spare the swordswoman a glance as a familiar set of yin and yang blades appeared between the two women, Archer materializing in defense of his Master. Their respective blades stood ready, seemingly anticipating battle, though neither Servant seemed willing to engage without direct permission from their Master. Instead, they merely stared at each other, grey eyes meeting grey steel as they stood still as statues.

Tohsaka seemed uninterested in the contest of wills between the Servants as she inclined her head towards Emiya, who seemed positively frozen with fear. Her lips brushed past his cheek, settling next to her ear as she whispered something so softly even I couldn’t quite place what was said. Despite that, the effect was obvious enough as the boy paled at her words, staggering backwards as Tohsaka released her grip on the boy with all the intent of one disposing of some unsightly garbage.

She turned towards me, eyes still bright yet all her rage seemingly forgotten as she wore an unconvincing smile on her lips. “Tanya-sama? I’d be _delighted_ if you would do me the honor of having lunch with you later today. It’s been something of a long day for us both, and it’s understandable if the actions of my Servant have soured you to any further interactions between the two of us. Despite that, I’d like to make it up to you and I’m certain that I could make it worth your while regardless. Perhaps we could meet by the new Hyatt Hotel by Shinto?

Despite the format of her question, I knew she wasn’t so much asking as she was demanding. Nonetheless, I knew better than to upset her further, and I was fairly certain that I kept my face straight as I nodded. “Of course, Tohsaka-sama, I’d be happy to attend. I’m sure we can come to a beneficial arrangement.”

The crimson Master smiled, the gesture so sharp you could stab someone with it. “Tohsaka-sama is _far_ too formal. Please, call me Rin.”

It was remarkable, how able she was in turning a request into a command. She seemed far too young to be able to manifest the gravitas necessary for such a performance, yet here she was, owning it like a pro. “Of course, Rin. I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful. Archer? We’re leaving, let’s leave Ortensia-san and her _pupil_ alone for now.”

With that, Tohsaka walked away. Archer held his gaze on Saber for a moment longer, waiting until his Master was some distance away. Once she was by the gate, the Servant smirked, winking at his opposite right before dissipating into the aether. Saber maintained her grip on her sword as she watched Tohsaka leave, glancing towards Emiya as she stepped off the property.

“Master?”

Her tone was cold and pitiless, sufficiently breaking through to her Master, who gaped at his Servant in shock. “N-no! Tohsaka-san isn’t our enemy, this has just been a huge misunderstanding is all. We just need to wait for her to calm down, and I’m sure she’ll come around.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before the Servant responded. “You are wrong, Master.” Saber sighed, the blade dissipating as Tohsaka walked into the night. “But I shall stand by your decision.”

“She was always something of a firebrand.” Kotomine noted, his steps strong and certain as he walked up to us. “Though she always did tend to let her emotions get the better of her, despite her protestations to the contrary. Perhaps if she’d been somewhat more controlled in her emotions, none of this would be necessary.”

Emiya turned to the Priest and for the first time since I’d actually met him, I noted that there was a strange tension to his stance. Saber seemed to pickup on her Master’s unease quickly as she too turned her full attention to the so-called holy man. “Don’t talk about Tohsaka-san like that.” He began, his words carrying a degree of heat in them. “If you’d simply told her everything without aggravating her like that, none of this would have happened! What was the point in all that?”

The Priest shrugged. “True enough. I shall find some way to apologize to her personally, though I would suggest keeping clear from her path until her temper has cooled. Would you not concur, Miss Degurechaff?”

“I can’t help but think that all this personal drama violates at least half a dozen different regulations regarding your neutrality, Father.” I note dryly as I walked forward, Emiya and his Servant behind me. The Priest chuckled at my words.

“The ideal is rarely ever comparable to the reality, as much as one tries in spite of that realization. It is not so much that the ideal be perfected, that it should be constantly strived towards regardless.”

Perhaps it was better to keep quiet and nod in a vaguely affirmative manner, but I couldn’t quite help myself. “It’s really quite admirable, how you’re able to say so little with so much. Does your flock typically swallow everything you say just like that?”

Kotomine smiled and despite myself I couldn’t help but have the feeling that he was pleased with my response. “Alas, I find myself exhausted from all this excitement. I’m not as young as I used to be, and things such as Heroic Spirits and lethal combat are for those with far more vigor than I. I bid you goodnight, Miss Degurechaff. Sister Ortensia will see to any of your needs before you leave.”

“Wait. I have a question.”

It didn’t take a genius to understand that, despite his protestations to the contrary, the Priest had ‘skin in the game’, so to speak. He had access to Tohsaka’s resources while at the same time serving as this war’s mediator while _also_ being directly connected to the training of another competitor. More to the point, his access to the resources of both the Tohsaka Family and the Holy Church meant that he had eyes all throughout the city. Nothing would _truly_ occur within the city without his say so, and that was a dangerous degree of power for anyone to hold. That the Priest was now deliberately keeping secrets away from Tohsaka was another fact that pointed towards a degree of duplicitousness in his _modus operandi_ , though I couldn’t possibly imagine the value in doing so in the first place.

A biased mediator was bad, but so far it didn’t seem as though he had any ill intent for me personally. Which meant that such bias could be taken advantage of, insomuch as an advantage could be found in any case.

Kotomine turned around, an amused look on his face as he waited for my response. I coughed a little, clearing my throat. “The things that happened at Ryuudou Temple, the bombing as well as the killing of the monks, you know who did it, don’t you?”

My words had a curious expression on the old man. His breathing picked up, the small smile on his face widening slightly as his eyes flickered to something behind me. A split second of time, the momentary lowering of his guard as I got a glimpse of the creature inside. But then the moment was gone, and the man replaced the mask on his face with effortless skill, as though what I’d seen was nothing more but a trick of the light.

“Goodnight to you, Chancellor.” He said, and there was a curious sense of nostalgia in his words. “I hope to meet you again, very soon.”

With that, Kotomine turned around and walked back into the building, his steps slow and steady as he retreated deeper into the shadow of the Church. A sigh behind me notified me to the approach of the nun, and Ortensia had a sad, almost disappointed, look on her face.

“Truly, to tire an old man so is unbecoming of your station, Miss Degurechaff. I find myself disappointed.” She sighed. “Though of course, not nearly as disappointed as I am towards the Heir of Tohsaka. Truly, to carry such envy and spite so close to her heart clouds her judgement. It is such a shame that people are so rarely honest with themselves, all the more so when they fail to be honest to others, wouldn’t you say, Shirou-kun?”

The boy frowned. “Stop that. You weren’t helping either, Ortensia-san. You didn’t have to pick at her like that, and Tohsaka-san had a point. We should have told her, why did we have to wait until the War actually started before telling her anything?”

“Blessed are we that follow the Lord’s grace, Shirou-kun.” The nun smiled. “If it is as Father decreed, then who are we to question the Lord’s will?”

Emiya groaned. “I said stop that, and stop messing around this is serious.”

“I _am_ serious, Shirou-kun. Though I _am_ rather confused at what exactly I’m supposed to stop, would you like me to do something else?”

The two of them continued to speak, though I was hardly paying attention at that point. That Kotomine knew who it was that had committed such an atrocity, yet decided to do nothing about it, told me more about his intent than anything else he’s said tonight. He had no intention of allowing a clean war. By allowing such a horrendous action and doing nothing about it, it indicated a willingness to allow greater atrocities to occur under his watch. The death of the monks did little to actually further one’s odds in the war; the temple was far too heavily guarded by mundane authorities for one to take it as a fortress, it gave no practical benefit whatsoever. So why do it and why did Kotomine allow it?

It was more important than ever to establish an alliance with one of the Three Families, though the recent revelations regarding the Priest had altered my plans somewhat. If Tohsaka didn’t have access to all of her resources, or at the very least had to go through the Priest to access those resources, then she wasn’t nearly as useful as I’d originally thought. Yes, she would likely have institutional knowledge of the Grail War as well as her own talent as a magus, but that alone wouldn’t nearly be enough to outweigh Einzbern’s contribution. In fact, if not for the uncertainty of whether Einzbern’s Berserker was an enemy I could defeat, I would have gone to find the strange little girl right this very second.

Alas, that wasn’t possible, and I was already committed to a meeting with both of them. The prudent thing to do would be to listen to them both and figure out the most optimal path between them, but that was no longer feasible now was it? With the revelation that the randomly selected Master wasn’t quite so randomly selected after all and that the mediator was more than willing to allow further atrocities committed within the city meant that I would need to move quickly. I couldn’t afford to rest on my laurels quite as much as I’ve been doing, and at the very least I’d need to debrief Isabel on what exactly had happened in the Church beyond Tohsaka’s outbursts. I doubted that it was anything of importance, but it didn’t hurt to be thorough.

Nonetheless, it was clear that I had plenty enough to reflect on until my lunch with Tohsaka, and if I was going think on all the ways my plan had changed within the past hour, I certainly wasn’t going to think on it while in a church. I turned to Ortensia, still playing with the increasingly embarrassed Master.

“What with Emiya now uh, properly inducted into the war, my task is done. Please give my warm regards to Father Kotomine, Isabel and I will be making our way out now.”

Ortensia seemed to perk up at that, and she turned her smile to me. “Oh! Well if that’s the case, then I shall see you off. The roads are dark and dangerous at this time of night. The path to the parish is also somewhat winding, and I would hate it if you got lost.”

I couldn’t help but pause at that. Was she somehow implying that my life was in danger? Or that as a Servant, I had such a poor sense of direction I couldn’t simply lift off from the streets and make my way back home? “Oh, I’d hate to bother an agent of the church. On top of that, it seems that you’re going to be rather busy with your pupil so-“

“Oh nonsense.” Ortensia smiled, waving away my concern. “He isn’t a helpless child, and I’m sure he won’t get himself into any trouble while I’m away, right?

There was a hint of steel in her words, and whatever else could be said about the boy, it seemed he wasn’t too suicidal. “Of course.” He chuckled nervously, looking away from his mentor and towards me. “Thank you again, both of you, for saving me. I won’t forget it.”

Ah, well that does neatly put me into a bind, didn’t it? I sighed, turning towards Ortensia, who seemed quite pleased with herself.

“Well then, lead the way.”


	17. 2.6

2.6

If forced to give my honest opinion on religion, I would consider it as something like safety wheels for human civilization. Bereft of education, bereft of reason, human beings did not respond to rational input and logical reasoning. They responded to baser instincts, things such as hunger or desire or fear, impulses that compelled one into instinctive reactions and degraded our capacity for civilization. That was not to say they were bereft of kindness or empathy, but human nature was not instinctively compelled to consider things in the long term. When given over to one’s impulses, people acted in the moment, they acted foolishly and they acted out of their own interests over that of the greater whole.

As such, I sought to attack such basic mental weaknesses by the knees. I did not do anything too rash such as outlawing religion, primarily out of my understanding that such decisions were untenable and a disastrously short-term approach more than anything else. Human nature was not inclined towards passive submission when forced to abandon a central cornerstone of their beliefs and personality, and all too often the unity religious institutions offered served as such a cornerstone. They may respond positively to a strong leader heralding such change, but unless properly managed those changes would wither away to nothing in the absence of such a leader. More gentle approaches were required to facilitate lasting change such as a more comprehensive education system, the toppling of the Church from their monopoly on moral superiority and more established social services programs so as to reduce reliance on such charities.

I wouldn’t say that I was at war with organized religion per se, and I knew that in the era I lived in, with the tools available to me, that establishing my viewpoint upon my people as a whole would have done less than nothing. In all likelihood, more forceful methods would simply inspire a counter-culture reaction once the next generation would be raised up in such a society. As such, I was determined to establish a more lasting foundation for humanity’s amiable divorce from their own superstitious fantasies.

There was the consideration that the superstitious _did_ exist though, as I’d had ample opportunity to observe with Being X. At the same time, there was a difference between knowing such things existed and believing that they existed. I for one knew better than to rely on some vain, megalomaniacal, entity that thought of itself as a god. A less educated person likely would not have, and it is these people I was protecting by establishing my policies so. These supernatural entities may fashion themselves as gods, but if Being X had taught me anything, it was that such creatures possessed only as much power as we allowed them to. I took no small amount of pleasure at the knowledge that my efforts would likely foil Being X’s manipulations at finding another patsy, and if I had started the ball rolling towards a society independent and uncaring of mankind’s superstitious past then I would be more than content. At times, I privately wondered whether any of the cardinals in Roma celebrated with holy wine when I died. I certainly wouldn’t have been surprised if they had.

As such, I wasn’t completely comfortable with Ortensia. In fact, as disconcerting as the Priest’s company was, I actually preferred his company to the nun’s. I think it was due to the fact that Kotomine approached the subject of faith from a more philosophical manner, meaning there was a degree of rational reasoning in his viewpoints, whereas his disciple seemingly did not. It was bearable earlier, when I had a mission to do and an objective to focus on and any irritations Ortensia might invoke could be ignored in favor of that mission. But now that we were walking side by side, the interaction was not so much a mission as it was a social setting, which was something I found to be much less pleasant.

“I must thank you in saving that hopeless pupil of mine.” Ortensia sighed, her pace light and without a care in the world. “I’ve been working on him for the past few years and, while he’s certainly been a stubborn one, he’s been progressing well enough over the course of his training that I would have been very sorry to lose him.”

“Indeed.” I commented blandly, secretly hoping the nun would take that as the conversational dead-end that it was. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

“He’s rather naïve all things considered, which isn’t the worst thing in the world.” She mused aloud. “Very focused on his training, a bit of a fascination with blades though, which is rather old fashioned, but it pleased Father well enough. Are you familiar with blades, Your Highness?”

“….not particularly.”

She smiled at that, before launching into an explanation on the nature of forged and magically created blades. It was completely and utterly uninteresting and, if truth be told, I would have probably figured out an excuse and been long gone by now if I had my way. Unfortunately, while the information Ortensia was giving me probably wasn’t important, it _could_ be, and so I forced myself to listen.

Emiya was undoubtedly the Church’s catspaw in this war. Someone trained by one of their own, summoning a Servant in one of the most powerful classes while having a pre-established relationship with the War’s mediator? It was obvious that whatever game Kotomine was playing here involved Emiya as a principal chess piece, which meant that almost certainly I was going to have to go against the Church in some way or form, which in turn would prompt a response from them in due course. It likely wouldn’t be a large response, not if Kotomine wanted to maintain an image of neutrality, but there were plenty of methods of applying pressure without actually carrying out a direct response. Should Emiya choose to utilize more destructive methods, to be more morally dubious in the execution of his tasks, I was fairly confident that Kotomine would turn a blind eye to his actions. Whether the boy was cold blooded enough to do that was another thing, but considering how many surprises the boy seemed capable of pulling off I wasn’t about to write it off. As such, any information I could gain was valuable.

However, that did not mean that I had an infinite supply of patience for that information, and as Ortensia continued to speak I found myself turning to face her. “You mentioned that you wanted to speak to me about something earlier?”

Ortensia looked at me blankly for a moment, before realization flushed into her eyes. “Ah! Oh of course, Holy Kaiserin. I suppose I lost track of myself, hadn’t I? My apologies.”

I ignored my discomfort, barreling through regardless. “Accepted. Now, what is it?”

“Well, it’s nothing quite so severe and I know how forward this may seem” She noted demurely. “But may I presume that you were the cause in the sudden surge of panic everyone seemed to have recently?”

I frowned. “Pardon?”

Ortensia sighed, a thoroughly unconvincing sound, and placed a hand on her cheek. “Well you see, around fifty-seven minutes ago advanced sensors in Kyogamisaki and certain communications arrays in Mikawa detected a spike in magical energy that sent more than a few people nervous. Our assets had to move somewhat more quickly than usual to waylay the military response, and of course the matter was settled before such inconvenient news spread. Nonetheless it was a surprise, and they came worryingly close to sending several outbound reports on the phenomena. Quite problematic, I’m sure you understand.”

Ah. Well, at least I knew that I _could_ be sensed then. An interesting bit of information, even if it was a bit concerning that the Holy Church was somehow capable of silencing a major military installation. I wasn’t exactly aware of the security and resources invested into that facility, but I couldn’t imagine a handful of priests in their silly little robes neutralizing the entire branch. I also couldn’t help but wonder if the Church had been up to any such shenanigans in OZEV that we simply failed to catch at the time, though I suppose it was impossible to know now. “I suppose I was then. Nothing too problematic, I hope?”

She shrugged. “The Fifth War has been in the making for some time, and the Holy Church has learned from the disasters of the Fourth War. Father wouldn’t quite care about matters of secrecy and the like, but that certainly doesn’t mean secrecy is abandoned all the same. I would simply ask that your more…obvious abilities remain in use at night. While we would be capable of maintaining secrecy in those circumstances, operating in daylight is another matter entirely.”

I frowned at that. The conventional logic of the war was to operate in the darkness, which while reasonable in the pursuit of secrecy, also largely narrowed one’s flexibility on strategic decisions. I certainly wasn’t fond of limiting my abilities and operational capacity for the sake of secrecy, but I suppose her words made sense with the information Ortensia was privy too. If nothing else, I could make a token effort not to make too much of a nuisance of myself in public.

“I’ll try, though if another Servant chooses to operate in the day with the expectation of a free ride from me, they would be sorely disappointed.” I shrugged, thinking back to Saber. Ortensia smiled.

“Consideration is all I ask, Holy Kaiserin.”

We continued to walk down the road, silent as the grave, and I tried to hold my tongue. I really did try, I gave my honest, best, effort at it, and I was fairly certain Ortensia meant well. As biased as the Church turned out to be, their actions were still largely beneficial to me so far. There was no value in antagonizing them here and now for some useless formality that didn’t matter much anymore. I’d spoken to bishops and deacons, I’d visited Roma and spoken with all manner of Papal seat warmers, I wasn’t about to be baited by a little girl with a fancy towards believing herself a nun. It just wasn’t worth it.

“Holy Kaiserin?” Ortensia asked again. I felt a nerve fire along my forehead and found my mouth already moving to respond. I sighed, bracing myself as I turned to face her.

“Do not call me that.”

I tried to keep my tone casual and non-confrontational, but I probably screwed that up. Isabel already had her helmet back on so I couldn’t exactly read her expression, but Ortensia’s curiosity was plain enough to see

“That title. Holy Kaiserin. It’s inaccurate and I dislike it.”

Ortensia tilted her head in confusion. “But the Pope-“

“Whatever Achilles or Eugene or whoever else came after them may say, I never directly accepted their offer.” I gritted out as patiently as I could. “OZEV is no more a successor to the Sacrum Imperium than the Ildoan government is a successor to the reign of the Caesars, no matter what else Roma may think.”

To be completely truthful, if I’d simply been more alert and aware, I wouldn’t have had to deal with ‘Holy Kaiserin’ this and ‘Your Excellency’ that. Not too long after the conclusion of the war, and after I’d done the requisite amount of international goodwill visits to the rest of Europe to assure them that we _weren’t_ going to annex them or whatever else, I’d made a final visit to Lateran City. Diplomatic efforts had gone well with the Pope at the time, the only thing of note I would have said being that he was rather more interested in personal conversations and the like than discussing matters of state and philosophy, which I merely shrugged and went along with. Eventually the meeting came to an end and I’d left, returning to Germania to have a very long, very well deserved, vacation.

Except the vacation never properly appeared. That Pope I talked to, Achilles I think, died not too long after that visit and for some blasted reason proclaimed me Kaiserin on his death bed. If that was the end of it the aftermath could have been managed well and his proclamation merely the final words of a dying man, but then his successor properly ratified it as well, claiming OZEV as the proper successor of the Sacrum Imperium and all that entailed, whatever that meant. It was a ridiculous assertion anyway, the underlying foundations between the alliance I’d built a far cry from the bureaucratic horror show that was the Imperium, but people didn’t seem to care. In their view, the woman that had defended everyone from the Communist menace had been properly recognized by the Holy See, and that was more than enough for them to start calling me Empress.

I’d spoken to Achilles’s successor not too long after, reasoning that perhaps this was an ill-advised attempt to bully me into concessions like the Church taking half of Ildoa or something. But as it turned out, that wasn’t the case. He merely considered it a matter of course, and more a sign of divine intervention and the like. I’ll admit that after he said that his reasoning wasn’t very clear to me from there as I’d simply assumed that Being X had somehow gotten to the Church. I’d also never returned to Lateran City, since I was convinced that me arriving there for a third time would prompt those cardinals to host an ambush coronation. I’d privately considered whether this was a means for Eugene to participate in political pageantry against me and thought that by crowning me like they did with Buonaparte they’d be able to grab some political brownie points, but as far as I was aware that was never the case. The man, and all his successors, simply proclaimed me as such and then went about their business.

Whether by a last man’s dying whim or calculated political stratagem or even interference by Being X, the conclusion was heartrendingly clear. Decades of having to endure a long list of titles that concluded with nonsense like ‘ _by the Grace of God, the Holy Kaiserin, ever Augustus’_ , etc. etc. and it was the most painful thing I’ve ever endured every time it came up. It was as though they found more and more obscure titles to pin to the end of my name at every available instance, and I’d had to endure and grit through it all, because even I wasn’t so foolish as to give up such easy political good will. But that was business, and having to endure that was a necessity of the position I’d taken by leading OZEV. I really rather not be referenced as such every time I was summoned in the same eternal battle that was likely to be my afterlife.

Ortensia looked at me curiously and for a moment I wondered whether Ortensia would continue playing the fool, saying she wouldn’t understand or whether she would pretend ignorance or some other nonsense. Thankfully the moment passed, and the nun inclined her head slightly.

“As you will, Caster.” She said, bowing her head in response. “Is there anything else you would like to ask of me?”

I sighed in relief, too satisfied by an opportunity to end the conversation quickly to consider how to use Ortensia’s ear tactically and merely shook my head. “No, no. Nothing else for the moment. Now if you’d excuse me, I’d like to speak with my Master now and-“

She smiled. “Of course, of course, say no more. Goodnight Caster, I hope you well with the wars to come.”

I waved her off, happy to be rid of her as she began walking back up the road. I wasn’t particularly worried about her safety, we were so close to the Church that only an idiot would try anything against her. Nonetheless, I waited until the nun had passed out of sight before turning towards Isabel. “I presume that you have some understanding of the situation?”

She hesitated before nodding. “Somewhat, Your Excellency. Something to do with a hidden society of mages and a contest for a wish? The Priest didn’t go into very much detail, owing to the fact that the girl quickly put up a fight with the boy and the Priest after….well, you know.”

I frowned internally though I nodded at her summary. Kotomine would doubtlessly be aware of the fact that Isabel wasn’t my Master; Lancer had noted my Master’s gender as a male last we spoke, and the fact of the matter was that Galliasta likely came up to Kotomine when he was to register as a participant in the war. That the Priest hadn’t blown Isabel’s cover to the other two was curious, more an indication of intent than anything else. I suppose I could see it as him following through with his precept of neutrality, but I already knew that he was invested in this war. He wouldn’t have covered for me if he had nothing to gain by it.

That idea prompted another thought, and I turned to Isabel. “Did you see anyone else in the Church? A guy in blue spandex? An injured woman?”

Isabel blinked, before shaking her head. “No, ma’am. Should I have?”

I paused at that. So, the Priest had kept his word to allow them refuge within the Church for only as long as Saber had yet to be summoned. My gaze scanned our surroundings before shaking my head.

“No, it should be fine.” I mused aloud, waving her concern off. “That would be what I expected, all things considered.”

“Unfortunately, I’d need for you to keep everything you’ve learned tonight secret.” I sighed regretfully. “Such information should fall neatly within the nondisclosure agreement between Galliasta and the rest of the Tresillo, but I’d like to make it clear that _I_ would personally want you to keep talk of such things secret and the like. Believe me, it’d be significantly troublesome for both of us if such information were to leak.”

For her more than me really. I was aware that Magi were incredibly particular about the secrecy of their rituals and society. If Galliasta was made aware of just how much Isabel had been privy to, I could easily see him ensuring such information wouldn’t spread. At the very least, a memory wipe of all relevant details, with the worst-case scenario involving him removing the poor girl via far more permanent methods. Far simpler for her to simply keep her mouth shut and keep everything she’s learned to the grave.

Isabel hesitated at my words, frowning for a moment before she spoke. “Your Excellency-“

“Stop that.” I said, irritated. Isabel clapped her mouth shut instantly. Her expression was difficult to tell with her helm on, but I could sense the same sort of hurt confusion one might get by accidentally stepping on a dog’s tail. I sighed.

“I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“Ah it’s oka-, that is to say um.” Isabel gathered her words before eventually regrouping and looking at my general direction, her gaze seemingly avoiding mine. “The other Tresillo members. They saw your fight with the red Servant. I don’t know if I can keep it secret from them, ma’am.”

I paused. Ah, that was true wasn’t it? I mused for a moment before speaking. “Do people still remember the Kavan Trials?”

“Uhh…”

Evidently not. I mused again. “What about the Zanxi Facility? “

That one seemed to hit the mark, and she began nodding vigorously. “The Jiuzhounese experiment right?”

The nature of mage training, the scientific development into the computation devices, the military training coupled with academic excellency demanded of its force, was a naturally expensive one. The European powers had the advantage of an established industrial base and a wealth of both scientific and monetary resources to pursue it, though this was all without even mentioning the necessary infrastructure to standardize the process and keep it as safe as possible. The Francois themselves had noted that conscripting personnel without the necessary conceptual framework and education then subsequently pushing them into the role of a combat mage merely resulted in wasted resources and dead personnel. Mages were a highly costly resource, one that demanded much from the State, but had shown their overall potential in so many different fields that it was folly not to utilize them. From military professionals to specialized scientists to generalized construction work, computation devices and the Mages that used them were the future. And other countries without those same resources knew that too.

The Zanxi Facility was an attempt by Jiuzhou in expanding and developing their mage program, though one that was brought about by paranoia and regional politics. From what I recall of the situation, China in my original world had suffered through an on-again off-again civil war that had only paused after the Japanese invasion and resumed only after its defeat in the Second World War, whereupon the numerous factions within China subsequently went back to fighting itself and from then on turned communist. In this world, Akitsushima was never sufficiently weakened enough for the multitude of factions in control of Jiuzhou to be comfortable enough to resume their little fight and therefore remained largely united in an effort to deal with the perceived threat that Akitsushima posed. Hence, Jiuzhou’s government became a rather schizophrenic, hateful, little marriage between multiple factions of what used to be the Nationalist and the Communist blocs from then on. Internal policies were largely deadlocked, the domestic climate almost resembling that of multiple fiefdoms forced to collaborate. Yet despite all that, possibly through spite, they still maintained a unified foreign policy that was largely hostile to what they believed was foreign meddling.

Part and parcel of this was a determination to never be invaded by a foreign power ever again. While they were vaguely cooperative with the West, and vaguely paternalistic to the rest of Asia, they maintained a paranoid fear and anger towards Akitsushima that propelled a significant amount of their development towards military and computational technology. Of primary concern was that Akinese experience in both the Rus-Akitsu War and the Second War, as well as knowledge in Mage technology and methods therein, would quickly lead to them dominating East Asia as a whole. An existential threat as far as Jiuzhou was concerned.

The Zanxi Facility was but one of multiple organizations bent towards closing the gap between Jiuzhou Mages and that of Akitsushima. Other organizations approached this in a much more reasonable way, such as through trade of military resources from OZEV, expounding further on computation orbs inherited from the Rus and a push towards a highly brutal education regimen that actually developed fairly competent mages. Zanxi, on the other hand, was bent on the idea that there existed some hitherto undiscovered aspect of the human genome, and that a combination of applied science and Jiuzhounese mysticism would be sufficient in unlocking that potential.

That their methods were haphazard, ill-conceived and self-destructive was obvious and need not be dwelled on, but their damnable paranoia meant that their experiments weren’t discovered until the early nineties. Once the news got out, it didn’t take long for an international hearing to be established, and _that_ took the better part of a decade. A portion of the staff were imprisoned for life, but the vast majority of the resources and personnel simply disappeared. The Jiuzhonese government had denounced those responsible, the Facility shut down and people executed, but I saw it less as them taking out the trash and more them making sure no troublesome paperwork would lead back to anyone within the government.

The worst part was that such developments were largely fruitless anyway. Whatever benefits that Zanxi had uncovered in their experiments paled in comparison to the human cost, and whatever developments they _did_ make could arguably be said to have happened naturally with the development of modern medicine. Overall it was an expensive, tiresome, fruitless waste of human life and another addition to the many monuments to mankind’s irrationality.

But one that was ultimately useful in cases like these. Rumors to the development of super mages had gone back since the outbreak of the Great War and while the rumors never really had any weight to it, they were sufficient to mask the deployment of spec op teams. Misinformation had its uses, though it behooved one to use such strategies only when necessary considering possible media attention and paranoia. However, as Elya had helpfully pointed out long ago, if we weren’t making use of the rumors in some way, then we can be assured Albion or Jiuzhou certainly was.

“Tell your people that he was some Jiuzhonese agent.” I shrugged. “I’m betting that some among your number already think of me as some Germanian agent, right? If Archer is to be seen as a foreign agent then things will more or less work themselves out.”

Isabel nodded and I noted a degree of stiffness from her, which I supposed was reasonable enough. “Soldiers gossip amongst themselves, the story will develop a life of its own, and they’ll fill in the gaps easily enough. It’s unfortunate, but we have no choice.” I said as I tried to comfort the girl, though I wryly noted that I was as useless at it now as I ever was at it in life. “The amount of trouble we’d likely stir up if the entire company knows versus them writing this off as some sort of espionage thriller gone wrong means we’ll have to do it.”

“I understand perfectly ma’am.” She nodded, still strangely stiff. I shrugged.

“Good. Once you get back, I’ll want you to tell the rest to be ready for a debriefing in the morning and prepare for another round of operations afterwards. Another busy day, I think.”

She blinked. “You’re not going back to base yet, ma’am?”

I gave her a placid smile. “No, not yet. A few things to take care of for now, you go on ahead.”

My tone was light but brooked no possibility of disobedience, a skill I’d needed to master once the baffling vitality of youth gave way to the grouchy disdain of old age. Isabel nodded dutifully, seemingly uncertain before speaking up once more.

“May I speak my mind, ma’am?”

My eyebrows quirked at that “Of course.”

It took a longer moment for her to find her words, but eventually she did. “I know you won’t be here forever, it doesn’t seem like that’s how these things work. But I’m glad you’re back. It just hadn’t been the same without you.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry, did I know you when I was alive?”

She stammered at that. “N-no, not at all ma’am. It’s just-well, I grew up on stories of you ma’am. My parents worshiped you, and I think nearly every girl my age did as well. I-I did too.”

Her next words were a bit of a murmur, not so much that she was whispering to herself, but a definite decrease in her own volume. “I….I’m happy that you live up to their stories.”

The next few moments were filled with silence, and I couldn’t quite know what to say to that. I was aware, of course, of the hero worship that my people indulged themselves on in regards to me. I was always at least somewhat distanced from it though, given a general awareness that people liked what I was doing and how I was handling things, not so much caring on just how extensive such feelings were.

Isabel couldn’t have been older than her mid-twenties, she might have only been a teenager when I died. Her parents’ generation, or her grandparents’ generation, their hero worship would have been understandable. I was at least somewhat more active during the time after all. By the time I died I would have been a shattered, sad old thing at my deathbed. Not exactly something to be impressed about in any case.

Nonetheless, unhealthy though it may be, breaking her of her delusions simply wasn’t feasible at the moment. As such, I gave my best politician smile and settled my hand onto her shoulder. I wasn’t so short now that such an action would have been humorous at best, but I was still shorter than she was regardless. Despite that, she seemed to quail at my touch while I figured out something appropriately to say to get her out of here.

“I’m happy I live up to those stories too.” I lied easily. “Now you should get going and return to your squad. I’ll need you to settle them down, understand?”

She nodded energetically at that, her hesitation gone as I took the first step away from her. A few moments later the mage was in the air, disappearing into the night as she took a fairly circuitous route back to base. I watched her go, waiting until the glint of magic around her form faded into the general light pollution of the city and all I could sense from her was the dull throb of my magic still circulating in her gear.

I sighed, feeling much, much, older than I actually was before taking a look around me. We’d made enough distance from the church that we were now at the base of the hill, though still sufficiently distant from some of the main roads that Isabel’s departure wouldn’t be given too much notice by the local populace. Nonetheless, that the regular people didn’t notice her disappearance wasn’t the same as no one having noticed it.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to kill her.” I noted aloud. “I’m sure you could still tag her from this distance, but she’s not my real Master, so it’s not like it’ll hurt me. All that it would accomplish would be you needlessly aggravating me.”

There was movement in the nearby trees and my gaze snapping towards the sight of the spandex clad Servant falling to the ground. Lancer stepped away from the shadows with a casual, nearly lazy, step as he held his weapon lethargically by his side. There was an amused glint in his eyes as he took me in, and I couldn’t help but feel a supreme degree of irritation at it.

“I was wondering whether you’d introduce me to her, she seemed cute.” He commented as he spun his lance idly. “Of course, if you want her all to yourself that’s fine too. We’ve all got to find something to do to fend off the boredom after all.”

“You know, if this is your way of trying to bond with me you’re not doing very well.” I noted as I folded my arms. “Then again, if you start every conversation from appearing in the bush and skulking in the shadows one becomes inclined to treat you with at least _some_ suspicion.”

He laughed. “Aww, no need to be suspicious Caster. I guess I just wanted to get to know you without that freak priest listening in on our conversation, we’re supposed to be allies after all.”

He paused at that, strangely crimson eyes affixed onto me. “We _are_ allies, aren’t we?”

I shrugged. “That’s what our Masters decided after all, and I don’t suppose you’re inclined to go against them?”

Externally I kept my voice and mannerisms as settled and impervious as a mountain fortress, a calm front to the feral behavior of the Servant in front of me. Internally, my mind was racing.

Of the Servants in the war, Lancer was likely to be the biggest problem. Unlike Archer and Saber, the last remaining representative of the knightly classes was directly allied to my Master. If I’d decided that working with Galliasta was the most feasible way forward Lancer would likely have been my greatest asset, a swift and capable combatant capable of some degree of synergy with my talents. I imagine that if we’d positioned ourselves well and forced the enemy to come to us, we’d have been able to repulse nearly any foe.

There were two problems with that though. The first is that, as per the mechanics of the Holy Grail War, the most logical alliance is one with another Servant that you could easily counter. In a situation where Lancer and I would be forced to fight against the other, I was fairly certain he would win. Lancers were renowned for their agility, hit and run strategies as well as a proficiency to engage at range if necessary. If he got the drop on me, odds were good that I’d lose and even if I managed to survive the initial ambush and fly away, retreat was not the same as victory. Lancers possessed magic resistance as well, not to the degree of a Saber mind you, but significant enough to impose restrictions on how I would have to engage him.

The second problem was the matter of the alliance with Galliasta himself. They were both members of the same organization, they both held ties to the other, and when the other Master had failed to report in I was sent to ensure that they were alright. There was likely a degree of closeness between the two that meant a betrayal of my Master meant a betrayal towards Bazett and Lancer.

All things considered, it meant that conflict with Lancer and her Master was an inevitability. Something I’d have to actively work towards neutralizing more than anything else, and because of that I suppose feeling restless in his presence was a direct consequence of that. I’d fought against Archer and Saber, found their measure as combatants, and while odds weren’t all that good I’d remain on good standing with them for very much longer I’d at least know what I was getting into. But Lancer? He was still an unknown, and it was that uncertainty that was the most unsettling thing for me at the moment.

Lancer chuckled. “Oh no, not at all. I like my Master actually, she had the balls to go into battle with me even when it made more sense to keep her distance. She’s cute too, and even if she got beaten up a bit that’s all right. Scares can be just as sexy, wouldn’t you say?”

I didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so I merely shrugged. Lancer smiled widened even more and he continued.

“Still, I can’t help but say I’m a bit jealous. Not of your Master, hell no, more from the company you kept earlier. Saber and Archer huh? Judging from how quick you got out of here earlier, you fought with some of them, didn’t you? That’s pretty brave for a witch, braver than I thought you’d be.”

His eyes seemed alight with an excitement he could barely contain and, for the first time in a while, I wondered just how different Lancer was to me. Perhaps I’d gotten used to talking to Archer who, all things considered was actually fairly easy to talk to, but this one seemed different even from him. More feral, more instinctive, his every essence suffused with aggression and the need to fight. More animal than man, which I found rather off putting. Still, he was my ally for the moment, and part of being a good ally was putting up with things you found unpleasant.

Nonetheless, there some things that went beyond simply ‘putting up with’ and required an actual response. “Why do you keep calling me a witch? You called me that last time we talked as well.”

He paused at that, frowning. That sense of bloodlust disappeared for a moment, his hand reaching over to his cheek to scratch at it. “Isn’t that who you are? Medea, Witch of Betrayal? That’s what Galliasta said he’d summon, or at least that’s what Bazett said he’d summon.”

For a moment, I found myself rather lost for words and I had to take some time to compose myself. Lancer continued to look at me, the aggression in his stance not nearly as evident, his gaze now filled with a sense of curiosity.

It seemed clear now that Galliasta had not been entirely honest with Bazett, or at the very least hadn’t informed her of all the relevant facts. That Lancer was under the impression I was Medea put a bit more of his attitude into context. If I was him, and I was told to ally with some woman called the Witch of Betrayal, I’d be feeling particularly wary as well. There were some cases when one’s reputation did not necessarily indicate a propensity for the truth, hell if there’s anything I would have learned in all those years of politicking it would be that at least, but there were also plenty of cases wherein such a reputation would be more than earned. After all, someone deranged enough to murder her own children over some flighty little man didn’t seem like one with a solid grasp over their own rationality.

Regardless, this information _did_ mean I had a decision to make. That Bazett and Lancer was under the impression that I was some other Servant entirely meant that there was a possibility for disinformation. I already knew that one day I’d have to fight Lancer, one that would definitely not be in my favor considering all the advantages that he’d have on me, and so any mistakes in their assessment of me would be worth their weight in gold. Of course, pretending to be a master of old magic long lost to the modern world when I was far, far, less capable of that wasn’t exactly doing myself any favors. Magic was a strange thing however, and if they would prepare to negate advantages I did not possess, it might leave them vulnerable to my own strengths and thus allow me an opportunity that I could exploit. Archer’s surprise in my capability for hand to hand combat sprung to mind, though I was fairly certain that if I tried that against Lancer I’d be smeared all across the ground for my hubris.

Continuing the deception would, thus, be the obvious move if the only consideration was to remove them in combat. However, there were multiple dimensions here, and the fact that Galliasta had lied to them meant there existed a possibility to break the bonds of trust between the two magi. If I offered up information that would indicate that he’d lied, while also showing that I myself had no problem with being truthful towards them, it might buy me a degree of leverage when the time came to turn against Galliasta. On top of that, any deception I’d have in obscuring who I really was lasted only as long as it took for both Lancer and I to engage in combat at the same time. It’s not as though I could warp reality to the same degree as the Witch after all.

“Ah, I think you’re mistaken.” I admitted to the other Servant. “I’m not Medea of Colchis, sorry to disappoint you.”

Lancer blinked at that, frowning, before leaning in closer. “Well you know I was starting to expect that, you’re not exactly very Greek ya know? That and from the way you were talking to those girls earlier, you don’t exactly sound like you were that old. But then again I’m not a Caster, magic works in strange ways, and I was thinking that if you _were_ some kind of Witch, you’d be able to disguise yourself as someone else if absolutely necessary.”

I shrugged. “Well, if Galliasta _did_ summon Medea, I’m sure the war would be over by now. I’m not that accomplished really and if the two of you were allied together I’m fairly certain you’d have both made good gains in winning the war by now.”

The man’s frown disappeared, shifting into an amused smirk once more. “Oh? That’s pretty humble of you.”

“Merely realistic.” I replied easily. “One has to have an accurate assessment of one’s abilities, otherwise one would be prone to mistakes in battle. Ego has no place on the battlefield after all.”

Once again, Lancer’s frown appeared on his face, and I was given the impression of a oscillating see-saw what with how mercurial the man’s mood seemed to be. “You’re a pretty strange Caster aren’t you? I thought your kind was more about stabbing people in the back and lurking in the shadows and all that. And yet here we are, chatting all friendly like. Hell the only thing missing would be drinks and food, though I’m not sure a little lady like you could handle your alcohol.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t in life, so I probably won’t now. Appearances _can_ be deceiving though Lancer, after all, if we’re gonna talk about who exactly is lurking in the shadows here, that would be you wouldn’t it?”

For a moment I thought I’d made a mistake, the man’s eyes widening as his frown took on a more thoughtful look. Thankfully the moment passed, with Lancer letting out an uproarious laugh that echoed across the empty street, his voice loud enough that I was seriously worried people would come out looking for a demon of some sort. Eventually his laughter receded, and he looked at me with glinting scarlet eyes.

“You’re a funny one ain’t cha? Okay I’m alright with this, bring us to your boss.”

He turned around, jumping up a bit and returning to the underbrush, leaving me somewhat perplexed. “Uh, what?”

“Well you see, I got to thinking.” He called out from the darkness. “My Master’s injured, probably gonna be in a bad state for the next few days, which as far as the war’s concerned is a bit of a death sentence. If we go back to her base she won’t really be able to fight so well, and if someone smart like the Assassin gets to her that’s game over for us.”

The brushes rustled a moment later, the Lancer walking out of it as my eyes widened. In his arms was the bandaged, still unconscious, form of his Master. Absurdly, there was a large backpack now strapped to his back, what I presumed was his Master’s belongings, and his spear was strapped to his back like some kind of radio tower. The absurdity of such a fight would have been funny in any other circumstance, but I was simply struck dumb by my own confusion.

“So, considering all that, the most obvious thing to do would be to go to our nice and steadfast allies and shack up with them.” He grinned as he dropped down back onto the pavement, the woman nestled close to him. “I had some reservations, what with me thinking you were some untrustworthy witch, but now that we’re past that misunderstanding this move makes the most sense dontchathink? You’re a Caster, you’re more oriented towards defense, and it’ll be the safest place for her. On top of that, with me there, it’d be an even harder nut to crack and I could probably take a look at your defenses for ya. People don’t really think about it a lot, but I’m not too bad with rune magic y’know.”

This was not at all ideal. If I were to abandon my partnership with Galliasta, the odds of my survival rested squarely on whether my Master would be able to respond to my betrayal in time. I had no intention of murdering in his sleep or anything like that, it was far more likely Interpol would do the job for me, but should I join another Master in the war I doubted he’d respond genially to my change of employer. Ideally, the moment he’d have any inkling towards my impending abandonment should occur only with the disappearance of our link, and he should be confused enough and powerless enough to do very little about it.

Such a strategy would obviously change if Lancer and his Master were within arm’s reach. In such a situation he could simply ask Lancer to check up on me and thus place my activities within a tighter timeframe. Of course, I’d already have to move quickly once the exchange was done, but in cases like this every moment counted. In addition to that, I doubted Interpol would make a move on Galliasta with the protections they’d spot, both from my own abilities, Galliasta’s and the murderous looking Servant that would likely serve as the Tower’s guard dog. That meant a delay on their ability to respond and, thus, an unknowable delay in just how smoothly I’d be able to change employers.

“Won’t your Master be upset that you made that kind of move without her input?” I replied weakly, my mind racing to find an appropriate counter to his arguments. “She’s your Master so you’d know her best but-“

“Yeah she’s probably gonna be mad.” He shrugged. “Scratch that, she’s definitely gonna get mad. But hell, let her be mad at me then, at least she’ll be alive. All of us are already dead, have been dead for a long time. It’d be a shame for young idiots like her to get themselves killed too pathetically in a battlefield filled with ghosts.”

Now that he was closer, I had a better view towards the girl. The darkness of the church hadn’t really given me a very good look at the Master, but in the flickering lights of fluorescent street lamps I had a better view. She was unnaturally pale, the bandages and gauze scattered throughout her body barely noticeable against her skin. Sometime between the last time I’d seen her and now, she’d been changed out of the professional looking suit before and dropped into some floofy little hospital gown that only served to make her look even more vulnerable. She was young, too young, and my eyes found themselves straying towards the ragged remains of her arm only barely covered by the generous layer of medicinal gauze and cloth surrounding it.

That she was still alive at all was testament to her vitality and stubbornness, as well as Lancer’s quick thinking. If it had been anyone else, I was fairly certain they would have died, and I found myself cursing internally. Dammit. “Fine, fine. But if my Master asks, you’ll be the one talking to him. I’m not going to go to bat for you and your little miss.”

“Go to bat hmm?” Lancer smirked, though there was less of an edge to it now compared to before. “I weird turn of phrase, but I think I get the gist of it. Don’t worry about your Master, I’m sure I can convince him to let us stay.”

There was a strange glimmer of barely restrained violence in his eyes and I found myself placing my hand upon my brow. I could already feel a migraine coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: As per the conventional naming system, city names have changed. Sasebo is now Kosaza, Kyotango is now Kyogamisaki and Mikawa is Iwakuni. In addition, Vatican City is now Lateran City.
> 
> Also, I was greatly distracted over the last week and thus will be making up for it. Expect another chapter within the next few days, after which regular scheduling should resume.


	18. X.Servants A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: First of two parts. Second part and an announcement in a few days.

X. Servants A

Credit where credit was due, Archer was impressed with Rin.

Well impressed was rather extreme, and Archer knew better than to ever say anything like that to her face. Her ego was already exasperatingly large enough as it is, and knowing that her ‘troublesome’ Servant was actually willing to think positively towards her might be the necessary push for her ego to finally decouple from her body and ascend into a higher form of smug superiority. If Archer had to be more precise about it, satisfied would be a closer approximation of his feelings, though that still wasn’t exactly accurate. Contentment maybe?

The Servant ruminated on the topic for a while longer as he followed his Master from out the boundaries of the Church. She didn’t so much walk out of the gate as frog marched out of it, the stomping of her feet so vicious and filled with spite that Archer imagined that had her augmentations been active that the concrete would have cracked underneath her fury. Nonetheless he said nothing, knowing that it was simply for the best that Rin walk her frustrations off and allow her to vent instead of pointing it at him thank you very much. He knew better than to interrupt her when she was in this kind of mood after all.

Time passed and eventually both Master and Servant found themselves in a lonely looking park, fluorescent lights dutifully illuminating the surrounding vegetation in their pale glow. Rather than walk past it as one would expect of a teenage girl this late at night, Rin marched straight towards one of the many available stone benches and sat down, prim and proper as one could be. Moments later, the illusion shattered, and she began wailing like a wounded animal.

“Arrrggggghhhharhghargah!” She screamed, her grace and poise vanished like a mirage, her fists beating into her legs like they’d somehow wronged her. “I screwed that up, I definitely screwed that up. What was I _thinking?_ Am I an idiot? Of course, I’m an idiot, idiot, because only an _idiot_ would screw something like that up!”

Archer shook his head, manifesting himself in front of her, his arms folded across his chest. Rin didn’t seem to care, only sinking deeper into her little tantrum, her hands reaching for her head in anguish. He sighed, so much for being impressed by her maturity.

“What’s the matter, Rin?” he asked, before immediately regretting his words as the teenage girl turned brilliant, rage-filled, eyes onto him.

“What’s the matter? What’s the _matter?_ ” Rin repeated. “Weren’t you listening? I screwed that up, I made a fool of myself in front of Emiya, I made a fool of myself in front of that _damned priest_.”

She gasped, and her gaze tunneled straight into the ground as her nails clawed deep into her scalp with all the desperation of one that desperately wished they could be dead instead. “Oh god I did that all in front of _Degurechaff_ didn’t I? She’s gonna think I’m an idiot, isn’t she? All that smiling she was doing earlier? That was definitely her ‘god she’s an idiot’ smile wasn’t it?“

As much as Archer was privately enjoying the situation, so long as her frustration wasn’t directed towards him in any case, he was fairly certain that if he did nothing now Rin would flagellate herself all the way till morning. That in and of itself had its own amusing appeal, but the risk of an angsty, sleep deprived, Rin choosing to take out her frustrations on him in the aftermath was simply too high. The Servant coughed, redirecting her attention back to him.

“In what way, exactly, did you make a mistake?” Archer asked.

She turned a baleful eye upon him, which he took in good stride. Seeing that her glare wasn’t really eliciting the response she wanted, Rin sighed and retreated back into her pity shell. A few moments later, she spoke.

“I didn’t need to make that much of a fuss over Emiya being trained by that priest.” She mulled dejectedly. “Thinking about it, it’s actually an advantage, right? It means that he’s a worthwhile asset, with an exemplary Servant, and if you joined forces with Saber that’d probably mean we could win the war together. I didn’t need to make that much of a fuss, and especially making such a fuss in front of everyone, with who knows how many people watching. We were outside, there’s bound to be familiars watching the church after all.”

Archer said nothing, merely allowing his Master to continue voicing out her thoughts. “But instead I let my temper get the better of me, I cussed that priest out, I cussed Emiya out and I left Degurechaff _there_ with them and if Emiya had any functioning brain cells he’d have allied himself with Caster and we’re going to lose and it’s all my fault and-“

Her words devolved into a disgusted, high pitched scream of self-loathing and Archer sighed. “That’s probably not going to happen-“

“Oh? And how would you know.” She snorted dismissively, poking her head out of her pity ball to stare at him balefully. Archer smirked in response.

“Well, while all you Masters were getting busy in the Church-“

“Gross.”

“Let me finish.” He chided, rolling his eyes. “While all of you were talking, Saber, Caster and I were discussing things as well. Saber and Caster don’t seem to like each other, I doubt that either of them would consent to an alliance with the other.”

For a moment, a glimmer of hope sparkled in the girl’s eyes before she ruthlessly squashed it down. “That doesn’t mean anything. Their Masters could just decide that it makes the most sense and-“

“Even if they did, it still probably won’t happen.” Archer stated confidently. “You saw how Degurechaff’s Master was, the girl practically worships the air Caster breathes, she’s not gonna make a move without her Servant’s say so. Emiya might be a more problematic case, but if Saber insists on not forming an alliance with Caster he’d likely go along with it.”

Rin was quiet for a moment and Archer turned to check back on her. Gone was the fury and self-deprecation of before, now her eyes glinted with a cold calculation that almost took him aback for a moment. The girl stood up, lightly patting away at her skirt before turning her gaze on him.

“And why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” She asked, a glimmer of that imperious attitude taking hold. Archer sighed.

“Because you were busy, and you weren’t even talking to me until you barged out of the Church. Also, a little heads up next time? When the day finally comes you suffer a psychotic break and want to pick a fight with two potentially hostile Servants at the same time, I’d at least like some prior notice so I could decide whether to leave you to die or not.”

“Hmph. I was not picking a fight, and even if I was I wouldn’t have needed you to bail me out. I could have won that all by myself.”

“Of course.”

Rin seemed to pause for a moment, hand to her chin, a look of deep consideration in her eyes. Archer waited patiently

“So, I didn’t mess up.” Rin mused quietly to herself, earning an exasperated sigh from her Servant.

“No. No you did not.”

“Shush you.”

“Hmm.”

A few moments later, Rin seemed to have recovered from her little episode. At least as a far as Archer could see, in that she was pacing to and fro, slowly gouging out a ravine unto the stone below.

“If Emiya is connected to that man in any way, I don’t want anything to do with him.” Rin considered, an oncoming mania manifesting itself in her eyes. “Saber is great and all, but I might vomit if allying with him is exactly what Kotomine would want. Especially if there’s a better alternative on hand.”

“Degurechaff, you mean?” Archer added. Rin gave a firm nod.

“It all makes sense.” She noted, excitement evident in her tone. “She’s the greatest strategic mind in the past two hundred years, she turned Germania from a poverty ridden hellhole of a failed nation into a global hegemon. Sure, her parameters aren’t that great, but that’s beside the point! The fact of the matter is, if we have Tanya von Degurechaff on our side there’s no way we can lose. We could probably even have her get some resources from Germania, really rub it in to Kotomine and Emiya’s face just what they’ve done by pissing me off!”

Archer listened quietly to her tirade before speaking again. “I did talk to Degurechaff about that. I don’t think she’s willing to utilize her country’s resources like that.”

Rin deflated for a moment, but only for a moment, before bouncing back with remarkable fervor. “Oh it’s fine, I’m sure we can work something out.” She waved it off. “All the credible resources I’ve read on the topic notes that Tanya’s a remarkably pragmatic woman when push comes to shove. I’m sure we can convince her of the necessity of it once we’ve secured an alliance.”

“If you say so.” Archer shrugged, before subsequently smirking at his Master. “And oh? Resources? How remarkable, have you been researching her a lot then Rin?”

“O-o-only as appropriate to neutralize a potential threat.” Rin huffed, turning away. “It only makes sense, right? The greatest heroes humanity has ever known, the odds of her showing up wasn’t impossible, it’s only natural I wanted to be prepared!”

“Sure, sure.” Archer noted, his eye quirking in amusement. “And you’ve done that for every other Servant that’s ever lived and died, correct?”

“Y-yes.” She fired back, confidence shaken but nonetheless defiant. He shook his head, deciding to drop the topic while he was still ahead.

“Alright, Degurechaff as an ally then.” He shrugged. “How are we gonna convince her that it’s in her best interest to partner up with us?”

At that, Rin smirked. “You just leave that to me. Just focus on not pissing her off or trying to kill her Master or anything else which, by the way, thanks a lot for that? I don’t think I’ve ripped you a new one for that crap yet.”

He smirked. “True enough, but I’d recommend that you save your energy. After all, what would poor, disappointed, Tanya say if you don’t have enough _energy_ for her huh?”

“Oh my god.” Rin rolled her eyes, turning away to hide the blush of embarrassment. “Let’s just go home now. We’ve got a lunch to prepare for and a Servant to seduce to our side.”

“Seduce huh?”

“Shut up.”

Archer said nothing, merely chuckling as he allowed his corporeal form to dissipate, the Servant following along behind his Master as they made their way back home. She didn’t demand his attention much for the rest of the night, beyond a few muttered questions here and there. Beyond that, as focused as she was by the oncoming date, he was left largely to his own devices and thereby allowed Archer time to think.

It was obvious enough by this point that this was not his world. That in and of itself wasn’t difficult to imagine, there had been plenty of occasions within his line of work that he’d had to be brought along to conflicts into worlds far, far, stranger than the one he’d lived and died in. That the only immediate difference that the Grail had seen fit to explain to him was that the timeline was slightly off and everything had a different name was easy enough to adapt to. That he was in such a different world from his own also meant that the Emiya Shirou present here was not the same Emiya Shirou that he himself had been, which meant that he doubted very much that killing him would do anything to his causal link with the World. He would still be trying to kill the boy, if for no other reason than for the sake of it potentially working out and snuffing out another potential hero from this world, but he had very little faith it would. Still, that this version of himself was being trained by Kotomine Kirei of all people was such an alien, disgusting, thought that he might have just killed him for that singular crime alone.

No, of significantly more interest was the Caster of this war, a Servant he’d never known or heard of and with whom the Throne was being curiously quiet on.

The moment he’d been summoned into this world, he’d known that something was incredibly different from his own world. The Grail typically only informed a Servant of the necessary facts of history so as not to embarrass themselves, but that such relevant facts dates all the way back to the beginning of the twentieth century was incredibly peculiar. That a form of magecraft had been accepted and adapted into the human consciousness was even more bizarre, though not nearly as interesting as the woman seen to be the harbinger of that change.

Because as much as he enjoyed teasing Rin about her obvious crush on the Kaiserin, Archer couldn’t really blame her. What information he’d been privy to just by casual observation already suggested interesting things about her, and upon further questioning such interest only increased. It wasn’t especially hard to become interested once one learned more of the relevant facts, for one to have learned and fought as young as she had, to have become the leader of her country and thereon to lead it to greatness? It was no wonder that she became a Heroic Spirit, not when the entire world still reverberated with the consequences of her decisions. She was a larger than life figure and in a thousand years when all this was but dust in the wind, he was certain that her name would still endure.

Which was incredibly suspicious, all things considered. Tanya von Degurechaff was an anomaly near exclusive to this particular reality, which was highly unusual as far as such things went. Worlds changed, the course of human history may alter itself, but typically those same heroes would exist in one form or another. Yes, there would be occasions were due to the circumstances of one particular reality a Hero may not rise to prominence in the same way or even at all, but rarer still for them to have left no mark at all in their lifetime. In a strange sort of way, their greatness would still shine through somehow, their presence in that reality still making itself evident in one way or another.

Tanya von Degurechaff had not existed in his reality. Perhaps that wasn’t too unusual, to be a child in that era of human history would have easily meant her early death, but neither was she present in any of the other realities that he could even vaguely recall. There should have been whispers of her presence, sparks of what she could have been, the failed ignitions of her ascension to greatness. Yet there was nothing, not even a blip, not even a vague glimmer of possibility.

He could not give any definitive proof on the matter, especially as he couldn’t very well comb through every alternate reality to find a speck of Degurechaff’s existence, but Archer could tell in his gut that there was something wrong with her. That she was not meant to be. She was unusual, aberrant, in a way that very few things were and an aberration at this level of play was horridly, spectacularly, dangerous. That her influence managed to reach the collective consciousness of humanity, even more so.

Archer wouldn’t interfere with Rin’s decision to ally with the Caster, in the off chance that he was being paranoid and Degurechaff was but an unusual speck in the grand scheme of things. She was right that Caster would be a formidable ally after all, and if nothing else it gave Archer more opportunities to converse with her. To observe her, study her, figure out what exactly about her bothered him so.

He’d been in too many disasters, too many tragedies, where he’d been present and had not the ability to do anything meaningful about it. If Degurechaff proved to be a threat that needed to be taken cared of, he needed to know as soon as possible.

* * *

She skipped along the path, a much more sedate pace than with which they first arrived. Contrary to her command earlier, whereupon she had been consumed by a murderous impulse that he himself knew so well, now she was merely whimsical and carefree. She had taken flowers from the path, telling him that she would place it in his hair once they arrived home. In truth, she had admitted that had she her own way those very same flowers would already have found themselves within his mane. Unfortunately, she mewled with disappointment that Servants were expected to hold a certain degree of gravitas, and as such walking about with flowers in his hair would have dampened that effect somewhat.

If forced to give an opinion, he would not have minded very much either. Truth be told, the concept of preference and thought as he once knew it was a vague, faraway, thing now. To have a preference, to think, implied choice after all, and choice taken foolishly and without consideration was no choice at all.

The moon was bright, the snow falling down from the heavens and alighting upon the girl’s shoulders. In her impulse and fury, she had left the castle without properly donning clothes more appropriate to the weather. She was still in her pajamas, thin and insufficient for the current environment, and yet she endured it nonetheless. If given leeway to do so, he would have wondered whether she would prefer for him to carry her atop his shoulders to spare her the cold of the ground, but such leeway was not given, so he did not wonder.

To be a Berserker was to be apart from the other classes. It was to have one’s sanity, one’s consciousness, one’s will, stripped and tossed into the void like feed for the sharks. It was to be trapped as an observer far and away from one’s own body, left as a slave to the rageful impulses and rot of the mind. Power in exchange for madness. Madness in exchange for power. He knew that exchange all too well, had been party to it all too well. Despite it all, if he’d been allowed to ponder on it further, he would have concluded that being summoned as such was only appropriate considering his crimes. Considering his failures.

But he had not been allowed to ponder on it, so he did not.

His ward stopped for a moment, and so did he. There, having approached her with the curiosity of all small animals, was a pup. Small and curiously alone in the desolate streets, it approached the girl with the fearless candor of youth and she cooed in response, her hands clasping together. She settled down to play with the animal, it’s response to her jabs fierce and adventurous, its mouth wide and playful as it struggled against her.

For a moment, a twitch of impulse made itself known, a minimal surge of bloodlust at the small, though ultimately harmless, surge of aggression against his ward. The magical structure of the enhancements installed within him sparked into life, flooding his mind with that familiar red rage, bidding him to take form, to manifest himself and pulverize the animal that dared fight against his ward. He stood implacable against the impulse, his mind an obsidian monument to his will as it washed away against him. He had not been ordered to maim and kill, and so he would not.

His ward spoke, and he turned away from the pup to face her. She is saying something, in a language in which he knows, but does not understand. It is not that he is unfamiliar with the language, like all Servants such information would have been implanted into his consciousness once summoned, it was more that he was not allowed to understand. The enhancement sunk and crept along the darkness of his mind, the words robbed of their meaning before he could comprehend them. The capability to comprehend languages was an integral aspect in one’s ability to conduct a war, to coordinate between allies and parlay against one’s enemies. But his role here was as that of a battering ram rather than a soldier, such a tool did not need to coordinate with allies that did not exist. It did not need to parlay against enemies from which no quarter is given or taken. All it required was a direction so as to pulverize all in its wake.

He had endured worse, and truth be told the inability understand her words did not mean an inability to understand her. It was in the way she spoke, the manner in which she moved and enunciated her words. That the glint of her crimson pupils and the narrowing of the corner of her eyes indicated genuine humor, that her lips showed teeth as she laughed with the pup showed love. The way she gesticulated to the pup, treating it as though it were a child or perhaps a partner, told him more about his ward than all those times when she had curtsied and bowed to her elders and handler. One could learn much from studying masks, but rarely would they learn the character of the one wearing them.

She held the pup over to him, as though showing the creature off. In contrast with the exuberance it had displayed earlier, the pup was much more sedate now. Its tail hanged between its legs, it sought to use its paws to hide its face, it seemed afraid. The fear only grew as he approached, the creature whimpering as his ward looked on curiously.

No order was given, no intent made. He was not to kill the creature, he was not to interrogate, or maim, or destroy, or crush. As such, whatever she intended for him to do to the pup was not an act of violence, which drastically reduced his capabilities in accomplishing what she expected of him. He kneeled to the ground, and if he were still corporeal the ground would shake at his action, before slowly raising his arm to the air. An invisible hand reached forward, a sole finger thicker than the animal itself, reaching out to hold it.

His ward stepped back, frowning, and his hand fell. Not to hold it then. His hand turned sideways, held horizontally and over the pup now. This time he was rewarded with a smile, her steps moving closer to him in response.

A moment later the tension returned, and the shard of warmth she showed him dissipated into the wind, replaced with that mask of calm bemusement she most often wore. She brings the pup close to her chest, adopting a more innocent guise as she turns around as his own attention strayed to what had displeased her so.

The answer was easy enough. A presence several feet away, a man dressed in the appropriate, casual, attire of the time. The man was young, outwardly genial, conventionally handsome. In its hands was a leash several sizes too large for the pup, his apologetic expression almost painfully false. He did not need to see his ward’s expression to know that she was displeased.

By wit of previous experience, he was aware that the most prudent means of satisfying her when she was displeased was to kill something for her. Despite that, she had given no orders, allowed no intent of violence for the moment. As such he turned his gaze away from the man, eyes studying the surroundings for other things to kill.

The answer came easily enough. More men, a handful, scattered throughout the immediate area. They kept themselves hidden but were pathetically sloppy in their attempt to hide, shadows lurking between houses and dimly lit alleyways. They did not seem heavily armed, enough to pose a threat to things lesser than he, but not nearly sufficient to breach his defenses. His own wellbeing was immaterial however, not when the priority was his ward, and given proper motive and ill timing they could conceivably hurt her.

The bloodlust returned, stronger and more relentless, but he stayed true to his purpose. The waters splashed against that obsidian pillar, and so it was repelled once more. He turned to his ward, awaiting further orders.

Yet his ward would not unleash him. She bid him stop, to watch and listen, and instead she seemed to be playing a game with the man; to play the role of an innocent as she learned more about it. Judging from the man’s expression, the pains it took to appear nonthreatening, the way its hand seemed ready to reach out for hers, it wanted her to accompany him. It continued to be friendly, patiently answering his ward’s questions as it took the opportunity of conversation to slowly inch itself closer and closer to her.

The questions she asked were immaterial to him, the knowledge unimportant, but it became increasingly clear that the answers it was giving were not the sort that his ward wished to hear. The more they talked, the more her mask slipped, the more her fury became evident. Not the tempestuous impulse that he had seen so many times before, but a deeper, more abiding, outrage that seemed to strike at her to the core. He had seen it only a handful of times since having met her, but such fury always precipitated an explosion of violence unlike anything before it.

He knew it was coming, so he waited, the bloodlust building up as the storm within him grew larger and larger, the only thing separating the man from its death being his ward’s patience and his own will.

Yet even blind and witless to the true danger, the man could sense that something was wrong. Long buried survival instincts coming into the foreground as the child it expected to be witless and defenseless seemed to prove to be anything but. It smiled, a nervous glimmer of his true emotions, before standing up and backing away from her. His ward followed, her hands holding the pup firmly even as the animal wailed and struggled, seemingly aware of the oncoming violence. This seemed to be enough for it, the man turning away, only for his ward to grab it by the sleeve of its shirt. Its nerve broke at that, its hand reaching out to slap away at her own.

Which was when his ward allowed his impulses loose, and he allowed himself to be washed up into the storm.

In a flurry of motion, the man’s hand disappeared, along with everything else above the elbow. Its eyes widened, the panic in its eyes transforming into shock and horror. Blood spurted from the wound, the man falling to its knees as his ward skipped closer to it, the vicious playfulness of a predator playing with her prey.

But he was no longer paying attention to that one, not when other threats existed, and so he was already on the move.

A nearby wall shattered in his wake as Berserker burst through it, revealing a man in tactical gear and a magical instrument hidden within the confines of its clothes. He was not naturally given over to restraint and so in the next moment the man transformed into a hideous stain on the floor, its ragged body flying up into the air like some macabre firecracker. The wailing thing of flesh and muscle would have died instantly with any other blow, but his mistress was still angry, and so he interpreted such disdain as a desire for cruelty and strove to meet her expectations. He had angled his blow upwards, the ungainly thing that was his blade carving out a trench into the concrete before pulverizing his lower body with the upturned strike. Its organs were crushed, the magical artefact upon its person obliterated alongside it even as his legs were cut apart and sent flying in opposite directions. The enemy would scream, long and loud, until the arc of its fall ended and gravity would allow the enemy a more merciful end.

A house shattered as he burst through the roof, shattering two floors in his descent until he collapsed upon another enemy. This one had cowered within the dwelling, frozen stiff as a statue, its expression veiled by the helm it wore. Its cowardice and indecision cost what little chance it had to escape and so his arm swung downwards, pulverizing more of the house with a thundering roar as it impacted enemy, who yet retained enough presence of mind to manifest a shield barely in time to meet his fist

It did not matter. The shield shattered with the sheer strength of his blow, catching the enemy in the chest even as it had raised its hand to somehow weather the strike. The sheer kinetic force of his arm was sufficient to overwhelm such resistance, and its spine broke moments after its arms did. Its body was ragdolled through the house and across the street, breaking through one wall before colliding upon its opposite number across the street, limbs tangled and twisted as it died.

Berserker jumped, what remained of the roof obliterated in his wake as he aimed his sights for those that remained. It was simple enough to find them, two running as fast as they can away from the carnage. Both had their shields up and, though one had yet to do so, another was already racing for the sky in the hope that such a maneuver would preserve its life.

Its shield hummed crimson as he collided with the fleeing enemy, the shock of it sufficient to knock the enemy unconscious, its head lolling about as it likely suffered a concussion. His hand reached out, grabbing it by the head and squeezing until its shield shattered. With another exertion he cast his hand out, its head still firmly within his grasp, before throwing the unconscious fool into its compatriot below. His aim was true, the throw the stuff of legends, and the enemy did not respond in time before being engulfed by the sheer kinetic force of his strength. The ground shattered upon impact, clouds of dust rising up as the earth collapsed and heralded the death of another enemy. To be certain, Berserker landed atop the second soon after, his chest popping like a cherry as he stomped him to death.

Silence fell upon the battlefield and he turned his attention back to his ward. She was safe and sound, watching the first enemy with bemusement as it soiled itself. She rankled her nose, shaking her head as she did and sighing, before nuzzling the pup closer. If it had been terrified before, it was catatonic now, and only his ward’s firm grasp upon its form stopped the pup from squirming out of her grasp and into the night.

She turned to look at him, before looking back to the man. He understood her meaning well enough, and so he marched forward, grabbing the man by the back of it clothes like some miscreant animal, before raising it up in the air. The enemy did not resist, seemingly recognizing that submission was preferable to extinction, and so he did not hurt the man more than necessary.

A nearby sound, one of irritation, and he turned around to see his ward grace him with a disappointed look. A few moments of thought later, Berserker knelt closer to the ground, his hand accepting the girl’s happy jump into his arms as he nestled her atop his shoulder. The pup remained terrified at this.

She nestled close to him, a sigh and a whisper denoting her exhaustion, and so he turned to the direction of the castle. A moment’s effort, a trickle of force into his legs, and they were all airborne. The night was cold, though he did not feel it, the wind howling at his passengers like the screams of the dead. The captured enemy squealed in fright, even as the pup barked into his ward’s ears and she giggled in delight.

This life was good, though he had not chosen it. Should he be given leave to choose, he would wish only for this life to remain so.


	19. X.Servants B

B

According to what the Holy Grail had told him, titles of nobility and royalty and all that weren't as prevalent in the modern world as it was when he was alive. Sure, there were places that held to those titles to varying degrees of seriousness and actual power, but even that wasn't the same. Nobility had adapted to the times, though perhaps it was more accurate to say that it had degraded, and even the most powerful noble in the modern age didn't, or couldn't, run rampant like the worst examples in his own time. Accountability for the powerful, what a funny little concept.

Despite that, it was clear enough to him that nobility no longer equated to power, if his present surroundings were any indication. The building that Caster's Master resided in was a towering thing of metal and concrete, soaring above the seas and mountains, a testament to progress more enduring than any ruin from his own time. Inside were a multitude of men, armed and trained, prowling the halls in constant communication with each other. He was fairly certain that an attempted breach of the building would have been reported within the first few seconds of it occurring. Then again, knowing that you were under attack by a Servant wouldn't exactly do the vast majority of people any good, but hey, it showed that Galliasta was prepared at least.

And then there were the _women_ of course. They'd passed halls and rooms filled with girls of surprising variety and notable…assets, an air of opulence and sheer decadence that prompted Lancer to wonder whether Galliasta had brought them all to be part of the war or to be part of some brothel somewhere. The sheer audacity of it all bemused him more than anything else, and he stopped counting the man's concubines once he'd reached forty.

Bazett stirred in his arms, frowning and muttering in his sleep, and the Servant chuckled. Ahead of him, Caster walked onwards, gamely ignoring the looks that Galliasta's women were giving her. Not that there were all that many of course, not when such promising fresh meat was present, and Lancer couldn't help but smile cheekily at whichever girl had the courage to look him in the eye. The answer, as it turned out, was that they were nothing if not courageous. Flirtatious gazes and whispered conversations gave way to an outbreak of giggles in his wake.

Perhaps Galliasta _did_ know what he was doing after all. At the very least he had an understanding of excess and decadence that would have rivaled Medb's own degeneracy, no mean feat mind you. He supposed they would have gotten along well, presuming that Medb wouldn't have decided to skewer the man in any case.

Still, as much as he would have liked to stop by and occupy their attention for the next few hours, business did come before pleasure, and his Master's condition was enough of a burden on his mind that any dalliances with Galliasta's 'help' would have been thoroughly soured. The women continued to hover around him a while longer, like vultures to a rotting corpse, following both Servants until they'd finally reached the other side of the perfumed hell and the last girl waved them goodbye with an _intriguing_ look. Lancer sighed and kept walking, his Master feeling particularly heavy in his arms as he did.

Caster sighed in relief, the pale mask she wore slipping to allow a hint of her exhaustion through. "Thanks for being my shield there, Lancer." The Servant commented as she walked, gaze resolutely _not_ looking back from whence they came. "Honestly, they're like that to everyone that passes them by, but you were sufficiently distracting that we got through that mostly unscathed."

Sufficiently distracting eh? He supposed that was a compliment and chuckled good naturedly. "You'll hear no complaints from me. If I'd known about such…ample distractions, I probably would have visited your humble abode much earlier."

"Humble abode. Of course." She noted wryly, and even without looking at her directly he could tell that Caster was trying to suppress her own exasperation. He chuckled again, with not so much good nature this time, but left it at that. His eyes wandered around the halls, taking note of the serpentine patterns carved into the walls, the faint hint of mana that suffused the place like some animal's musk.

This tower of theirs was an interesting thing, in more ways than one. Beyond the wealth and the resources Galliasta had obviously invested into it, the entire building was so heavily enchanted with augmentations and traps that one could tell, even by a casual glance, that Galliasta had been working towards this war for years now. Halls stretched on longer than they should, some bypassing the entire length of the building at certain key locations. Floors existed where they shouldn't, their presence completely invisible from the outside even as they housed room after room of guests and tools. Rooms were larger and more grandiose than they would reasonably appear for a building of this size, a three-story tall ballroom plaza existing right above a parking garage and right below a training room for his people.

Then throughout it all, that ever-present scent of blood in the air and mixed with the mana in a peculiar way that defied description. The walls were plastered with eldritch sigils and runes, enchantments designed to discombobulate trespassers and lead them off the path. Lancer reasoned that maybe thirty percent of what he'd actually seen so far was livable or otherwise passable, everything else was made to merely _look_ as though it was comfortable, to lure in the foolish and reckless and thin out any potential opponent that could breach the building.

But that was all fairly mundane, defenses that Galliasta had likely employed even before summoning his Caster. With the Servant of the Scroll by his side, those defenses should have been amplified even further, at least to the point that they would be able to disable or possibly threaten him. As it was, Lancer sensed nothing of the sort, the only enchantments present being that of her Master, and the complete absence of any such defensive enchantments from _Caster_ of all people was just making him more and more curious at the blonde-haired girl in front of him.

"This will be your room, and your Master's, of course" Caster said, opening one of the many identical doors along the hall and revealing a room that Lancer was fairly certain was larger than the entire floor. In a corner of the room lay a bar with a variety of alcoholic brands that Lancer had no idea of but couldn't wait to try, while in another partition within that same room was a bed larger than two sedans stacked side by side. "My Master apologizes for not preparing a more luxurious room 'befitting Bazett's role and position in the war' and hopes that you two would accept this for now."

"'Befitting her role and position' huh?" Lancer wondered aloud, walking inside and taking a good look at all the accommodations. They had a TV hanging from the ceiling, which was pretty neat as far as such toys went, and an entire section of the wall was just completely composed of glass. It stank of so much wealth and bad taste that he was barely suppressing the urge to shake his head at the whole thing. Was he being the target of a particularly bad practical joke? "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Caster paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, before responding. "It means that he's given you the best possible accommodations available at the moment, but hopes that you'll consider the display prestige and comfort evidence that our alliance is in your best interest. My Master rather values Bazett's cooperation, and by extension your own, so he'd do everything within his power to maintain that cooperation."

Lancer blinked at that, before laughing. Dismissing the excessive display of wealth, Lancer made a beeline towards the bed. "Awfully honest, aren't ya Caster? Wouldn't your Master be upset that you said all that in the first place?"

"No, I don't think so." Caster considered. "Currently, my Master's viewpoint largely focuses on his active competitors rather than us, on Masters instead of Servants. I imagine that he doesn't put much stock on us, seeing us as something akin to tools or familiars, and so our opinions and conversations wouldn't matter so much compared to the opinions and beliefs of those that hold our chains."

Lancer said nothing, gently depositing his Master unto the bed, raising the covers around her body as he did so. It was rather cute actually, the purple haired (pink haired?) girl snuggled into a thick layer of fluff. Amusingly, it didn't seem that the change of locale had made his Master any more comfortable, her frowning and mutterings only growing as she left his arms.

Caster continued on. "Beyond even that, I believe that subtle maneuvering like what I'd described is both unnecessary and ineffective in your case; the former because you're already an ally and require no convincing, the latter because you seem to be the type of man that would appreciate a more direct approach."

"Hmm, alright." Lancer thought aloud as he turned to face the other Servant. Caster was staring at him, blue eyes unnaturally focused in a way that even he found somewhat peculiar. "You've got it rough huh? My Master's pretty great, even if she _did_ fold at the first sign of trouble, but that's not really her fault-"

Nearby, on the bed that Lancer had dropped her in, Bazett gave a vaguely irritated growl. Caster's brow rose up in response, Lancer himself smiling mischievously, before continuing on.

"-still, I'm pretty sure she doesn't see me as a tool, so you've got my deepest condolences about your own predicament, girl." He shrugged, walking towards a nearby couch before dropping into it with relish. He had no idea what it was made of, but whatever it was must have been _sinfully_ soft. "It must be a pain in the ass dealing with his shit all the time, I'm amazed you're not wound up like a clock. Well, you seem pretty tense to me anyway, but it's pretty impressive you're not _more_ tense is what I'm saying."

Caster frowned, before shrugging. "I wouldn't say that, but stress is a natural part of the job. Even in the best-case scenario wherein you enjoy every aspect of your job, you're still going to accrue pressure or tension when executing your role. I've long since managed to deal with it."

Lancer blinked for a moment, before smirking and leaning a bit closer. "So you _are_ stressed out then?"

She snorted. "I'm engaged in a conflict with six other Heroic Spirits, I'm constantly wondering whether I'd be capable of fighting them off, dodging whatever traps they may have placed for me, or simply holding my own in a battlefield of legends. I think anyone that doesn't take this seriously is something of a fool, wouldn't you say?"

He laughed at that. "Well, I suppose that's true enough. You seem like the type to overthink things, which may have been a good or bad thing with your legend, but I wouldn't know. Still it can't be all that bad, since you're here and kicking after all, must have worked out for you more often than not. I never gave things a lot of thought in life, y'know? Go with the flow, I think the modern parlance would say, and you know what? I don't think I really had that many regrets, all things considered."

Caster sighed, a hand to her brow. "Yes, I can see that. Is there anything else then? I have something of a busy day later, and I rather conserve my energy if at all possible."

"Alright sure, just one question then." Lancer smirked, his eyes hungry and searching. "Wanna sleep with me?"

For all that the other Servant had maintained a cool and composed demeanor ever since he'd first met her, Lancer was _delighted_ at the response he got. His words didn't seem to have an immediate effect at first, the girl frowning in confusion as though trying to parse another meaning from his words. Eventually however, his words eventually clicked into her mind, and he had the exquisite pleasure of watching as the Servant of the Scroll manifested a bright crimson blush that made every other color in the room pale in comparison.

"Tha-I-Wha-" she started, her blush only going deeper as Lancer laughed mischievously. "T-that's _highly_ inappropriate!"

"So's trying to kill each other, but that's just part of the job, ain't it?" Lancer smiled, leaning back in satisfaction. "We're supposed to be allies right? That means we're supposed to fight and kill and die together, and as far as I'm concerned that's as close as you can get to someone with your clothes still on. Don't see much point of your whole ice queen thing given all that y'know?"

"I…wha…ice queen?" She muttered, consternated, with Lancer merely nodding in response.

"Exactly. What you need is to relax, live a little! I've seen it plenty times before y'know. Eight, maybe nine, times out of ten that meant they were interested and _wild_. So I figured, hey, since we're both stressed out-"

"I'm _not_ interested." Caster seethed out in response, the embarrassment finally making its way to righteous anger. "And I would have you know that I'm married, Lancer!"

"So am I." Lancer shrugged, which seemed to catch the girl off guard. "Or rather, I was? I don't exactly know how death works with marriage, but I'm pretty sure I'm still bound by it. It's a thing with my legend ya see, bound to promises I made even after death. So really, by that logic, if I'm still bound to never eat a dog or to die by this weapon by so and so person, I'm pretty sure I'm still married to Emer."

The other Servant seemed completely speechless at that, and Lancer frowned. "Damn, I didn't just out myself, did I? Both our Masters had an idea of who the other was going to summon after all, and since Bazett never really changed her plan I assumed that-"

"N-no, I know who you are Cu Chulainn, that-that's not it." Caster sighed. "I'm just surprised. You claim to love and cherish your wife, yet you'd still…well.."

"It's just sex Caster, I don't see the big deal about it." Lancer noted, raising his hands up to the back of his head. "I still love my wife, and yeah she was aware of my trysts, but she didn't particularly care. She knew she had my heart, that I would always return to her, no matter what. What does a night's rampant debauchery matter to a lifetime with her? What does a moment's passion matter compared to a lifetime's promise? We both had an agreement, we were both fine with it."

The girl didn't seem to know how to respond to that, her frown deepening as she seemed to grasp at words just out of reach. Lancer smirked, closing his eyes and giving a contented sigh. "That and she had _bountiful_ tracks of land-"

"Lancer."

"I can almost see it, y'know. They were often a great comfort to me, on lonely nights and restless mornings-"

"Lancer-"

"-sometimes I think that I could reach out and-"

" _Lancer-"_

"Such a chaste little thing, aren't you?" He sighed, cracking open an eye to observe the now thoroughly embarrassed Servant. She seemed to have settled onto a nearby chair, a hand over her head as though fighting off a blinding headache "You're a Heroic Spirit too, so you must have been famous in your own time. I'm sure there would have been countless men and women lining up to be yours, even for a night."

"I suppose you're right there." She conceded weakly, and he clapped his hands in triumph.

"Ah see, now _that_ is something to talk about." He chuckled, opening his eyes fully and leaning towards Caster, eyes aflame with mischief. "They're always so thankful, aren't they? I think my record was twenty in a single night, though that didn't include the repeats-"

" _Lancer please._ " She groaned out. "I never tried. Never _wanted_ to try. I was happy with my wife, and I had no interest in any of my…fans."

"Oh, you married a woman?" Lancer hummed with interest. "How progressive. But really, not a single one? You must have had the self-control of a monk or something, consider me thoroughly impressed Caster."

She didn't say anything this time, a weak grunt, a wave of her hand, being the only response the girl had for him this time. For his part, Lancer didn't mind, his hand resting on his chin as crimson eyes studied the Servant he was to entrust his life with.

Caster was certainly an interesting one, that much was obvious ever since their first meeting. She'd given up what advantage she had by clarifying who she was, despite the fact that no Servant in her right mind would dare to throw away the advantage of anonymity to another. She was inclined to talking and diplomacy, far more than Lancer himself thought was prudent, especially in the middle of a war, but he could see the fruits of her efforts clear as day. There were three Servants at the Kotomine Church earlier after all, and despite being in such close proximity, none of them were engaged in combat with each other. Instead, they merely talked and coexisted, figures of legends brought into a stalemate by this girl and her cold eyes.

Yet despite that there was another side of her that was so curiously naïve that he couldn't help but note how adorable it all was. She was disinclined from lying, she seemed to treat others honestly and directly, there was a naivety buried within her that he wouldn't have attributed to the cold looking woman at first. That, more than anything else, was what stayed his hand earlier, what made him consider than an alliance with her could work.

At the same time, he'd seen her with the other Servants. The man in red, the woman in armor. She didn't talk to them like a conniving rat or an innocent girl or some weak-willed sycophant. She stood among them like equals, unconcerned and unafraid, the barest glint of violence in her eyes, an energy in her step that he didn't think she was even aware of.

Surrounded by powerful warriors and talented killers, Caster was _alive_ somehow. Like she was enjoying every second of it, as though she was more at home there, staring death in the eyes with nothing but her words and her wit than she was here, sitting down and talking about sex and romance.

He wondered who she was, though Lancer wasn't in a particular hurry to figure that out. The answer was sure to present itself to him eventually, and he had a much more enjoyable aim for tonight than figuring out her name.

"So.." he began, catching her attention as he gave her a toothy grin. "I was thinking-"

"No, Lancer."

He placed a hand over his heart, a look of hurt in his crimson eyes as the barest flicker of mischief danced beneath. "Caster, I'm hurt. I never proposition a woman twice, usually once is enough-"

" _Lancer_."

"Okay, okay." His hands raised in mock surrender. "I was going to suggest a spar with you. A friendly one."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he could see an immediate effect on the other Servant. Her gaze snapped to his, azure eyes meeting scarlet ones, the embarrassment of an innocent girl replaced by the attention of a predator. It was almost, but not quite, the same as when she'd been talking with the two Servants from before. The intensity and calculation was certainly there, but instead of cool confidence, Caster was now possessed of a boundless energy that seemed barely able to keep itself contained within her form. His eyes flickered down, her hands clasped together. A controlled excitement that had washed away any sign of the embarrassed girl that had been sitting there moments earlier.

It was quite possible that Caster simply wasn't the type to be interested in sex, not when she gravitated towards violence like moth to a flame. If anything, that little revelation just made her all the more attractive to him.

"A spar?" she said, her voice curious. Lancer suppressed the smile crawling up his lips. He got her.

"Sure." He shrugged, leaning closer to her. "I'm not interested in the grail. I don't want riches, I don't have some wish for the grail to grant. Didn't really think things through remember? So I didn't really have any regrets, live fast, die young."

"That seems easy enough to imagine." Caster noted wryly. He gave a wolfish grin at that.

"What I _am_ interested in is fighting. I accepted my Master's call, I allowed myself to be summoned here, because the opportunity to fight six of the greatest heroes mankind has ever produced is just so damn exciting that I would have been happy to rip my arm off and gut myself for an opportunity to be here."

He had her attention now, so he continued on. "The problem as far as I can see it though? We're allies. We've got no reason to fight each other, and our own Masters don't really have an interest in us fighting each other. Boom, one goes down, I have the opportunity to fight _five_ of the greatest heroes mankind has ever produced and yeah that's still a hell of a deal, but I don't feel right about it."

"So, you and me? Let's fight. We test ourselves against the other, fight till first blood or yield, then we can both focus on beating down every other Servant in the war. It'll relieve stress, we'll understand each other's capabilities in a fight so coordinating is easier and neither of us have to really die for it. Hell of a deal, in my opinion. Whaddya say?"

A few moments passed, Caster's eyes searching, studying Lancer. He didn't particularly know what she was looking for exactly, but neither did he particularly care. They both knew how this was going to end, so he simply leaned back, that same toothy smile on his face, and waited.

It didn't take long after that.

"Alright, okay." She sighed, a screen of false irritation masking her obvious excitement. "If you're that eager for a fight, I'd be remiss in my duties to deny you that honor."

Lancer scoffed as he jumped up to his feet, a spring in his step. "Has anyone ever told you that you suck at foreplay? What, did you write a dissertation before every man you got killed or did you save that for afterwards?"

"It's like you want to die, don't you?"

" _Much_ better. Keep it up, we'll make a warrior out of you yet."

* * *

He had always been a morning person, early to bed, early to rise and all that. It had always made the most sense to him, to meet the oncoming day with one's full might and full vitality, to be prepared for the oncoming challenges in your way. It also helped that it made the most sense militarily as well as he recalled, or would recall, the advantage of striking an unprepared enemy to be invaluable.

These days, he did not have a particularly brutal schedule that would necessitate such aggressive posturing so early in the day. Instead, he'd found that breakfast had served to be an ample motivator.

It was the food of course, which was a reasonable enough conclusion to make. There was a variety to what was available, to who it was available to, that was simply remarkable. He had known about it intellectually of course, the Holy Grail had informed him so, but he did not think he was a person, or would be a person, particularly inclined to trust in witchcraft when the senses could do just as well. As soon as the first opportunity had presented itself he had left the apartments of that cold, grey, city and snuck out into the marketplace with his Master. Partially it was a need for adventure, to explore the world while he still could and immerse himself in a future far and away from his own. It was also a means to get away from that Tower, cold and distant and confirming everything he believed, or would believe, the excesses of witchcraft would eventually lead to.

But the markets? Ah the markets were truly _alive._ The people roamed out and about, in search of sustenance by which they could face the day. These were not ignorant people, but educated, intelligent, men and women with access to goods that would have made lesser kings weep in envy. If one had a mind to, one could traverse through the stalls and the shops and the people and acquire within a morning what kings of ages past would have struggled to do in a month. Wine from the reputable vineyards of Gaul within the Francois Republic and seafood taken from the north Atlantic! Spices from half a world away arrayed into tiny little bottles and sold by the hundreds! Half a year's worth of travel for either task done in the span of ten minutes! He gathered the spices to him, breathed in the delicacies and the scent of a far away world. Then, after he was done sneezing in any case, he would move on to local restaurants were cooks played with ingredients and materials that his own personal chefs would have killed to possess.

It had pained him to leave, despite the necessity of doing so. The dreariness of the country itself was a point against it, but he'd barely had any time at all to explore the city. Foggy and cold though it may be, Londinium was still the capital of an Empire that had endured for centuries. There were lessons to be learned, people to observe, opportunities to exploit within the country that wouldn't likely exist anywhere else. Unfortunately, his Master's Master had bid them return to Fuyuki, a decision that had dampened his spirits until he'd been informed of three facts.

The first was that it would be the site of the Fifth Holy Grail War, a contest between the best and greatest Heroes mankind had ever produced. Seven Heroes thrown into a battlefield whereupon the only rule was to be the last one standing, a true test of one's mettle to determine the worthiest among them all. Remarkable, truly remarkable, and that alone would have been enough for him to leave Londinium with all the speed he could muster. In fact, if not for his Master's insistence on the novelty of flying via airplane and that it would be a considerably more comfortable voyage that way, he would have up and swam all the way to Fuyuki that very day!

The second was that it was a city of the Akitsushima Dominion, the Dragon of the Orient, one of the four upstarts that had toppled old Albion from its throne. It wouldn't have been the first location he would have chosen of course; his home had been subsumed into the state of Magna Rumeli, exploring what had happened to his land and his people would have been his first move. Next to that, visiting Germania or the Unified States would have been his next pick, considering that the Albionese he'd met had held great ire towards the former and that the latter was an entirely new continent he'd never even have dreamed of in his youth. Now that he was finally in Fuyuki, he could say that the city was far more comfortable than he'd initially given it credit for, if for no other reason than that he could actually see the sun for more than an hour every day.

The third? Well the third was the most interesting reason of all, of course. According to his Master, and his Master's Master, he had died in Fuyuki. More specifically, he'd died fighting in the last war.

Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. The sheer wonder of it all, that singular reason, outweighed all other considerations.

"-ther? Brother?"

He started, turning towards the voice with wide eyes, his Master looking at him with kindly eyes and a concerned frown, even as the old lady in front of him giggled and cooed. He glanced down, cheeks flush with embarrassment, before handing back the fish to the kindly old woman that managed the shop.

"I apologize." He said, bowing deep as the customs of the land dictated. The Holy Grail had given him the necessary means by which he could communicate with others, but he still strived to learn the language without the Grail's interference. Knowledge given was not knowledge earned after all. "I was distracted, your product is quite good, ma'am."

"Oh don't worry about it young man." The old woman cooed, and he noted that she was already bagging the fish for him. "Your sister already paid for it while you were distracted, are you interested in fish?"

In a manner of speaking, he supposed she was right. The tuna caught in and around Akitsushima was very different from the sort caught in Albion and very, very, different from the seafood available in his homeland. He'd been considering the practical applications of the fish, whether one was more nutritious than the other given the effort necessary to catch it versus that of other species. He'd also been wondering whether his other self had eaten this particular species of fish when he'd been here last, though that in and of itself was much more difficult to determine.

But he couldn't say all that to the woman, not without them being amused or confused by his words, so he nodded meekly. The gesture seemed enough to appease the woman, who handed him the product, plus a variety of other specimens, before turning to his 'sister'.

"Can we have tuna for breakfast, sister?" He smiled at the girl, who smiled gently back at him. Truth be told they didn't look much alike. Her own features were distinctly Asiatic, with the pale skin and stature common to the populace here, with the only defining feature to separate her from the rest being her hair. His own was more distinctly more Mediterranean, reflecting his own origins, with bronze skin and scarlet hair that stood out in the ethnically homogeneous state of Akitsushima. Nonetheless, the unique peculiarities of the language, being that the word 'sister' in akinese could simply be in reference to an older, more respected, woman, as well as the fact that most of the population typically didn't go out of their way to meddle in the affairs of others, meant that the deception was easy enough to maintain.

Not that he _wanted_ to deceive others anyway. Truth be told, he would have preferred to go about things in an entirely different way, but he'd already been advised about that. He knew better than to against his advisor's opinion, at least not without a convincing enough reason to do so anyway.

"Of course, Alex." Sakura Matou smiled, her hand settling down to rustle the boy's head, a move that brought much amusement to the onlookers and much consternation to the Servant himself. She turned to the stall. "Thank you once again, is it alright if we come by again tomorrow?"

The old woman laughed. "Of course! We'll be having salmon tomorrow, so better build up an appetite by then, okay Alex?"

Despite himself, he felt himself nod excitedly, before waving goodbye to the woman and trotting off after his Master. They passed through a multitude of other stalls, looking to all the world an adoring big sister and her excitable younger brother, as they communicated through the link between them.

" _I'm very sorry about that, Alexander_." She sighed mentally, and he could practically see her regret manifest itself physically, slowing her pace and perching itself atop her shoulders, the weight of it all pressing down against her like some unbearable sin. _"It's not very befitting of someone like you being thought of as a child-"_

" _Nonsense, it's perfectly natural."_ He replied cheekily, his grin widening as he spied a variety of octopus and eel along another stall. _"I appear as a child in this form, mentally I seem to function as a child, so it only makes sense for others to consider me a child. At the very least, I don't consider their opinions very important after all. Your own opinion is of far more importance than that of the populace, even if their fish is rather extraordinary."_

His current view of her was obscured by both their current position in the crowd and the height difference between the two, yet he spied the tips of her ears turning red in embarrassment. From deep within her mind, he heard a barely perceptible whisper.

" _Thank you, Rider."_

The Servant grinned. _"Of course, Master."_

His Master was an interesting person, though truth be told he still didn't know very much about her. It had been a week since he'd been summoned now, give or take a few days, and in all that time the only opportunity he'd had to get to know his new partner was in the plane ride over and the handful of days wherein they'd actually been in Fuyuki proper. There hadn't been a lot of opportunities to get to know her in Londinium, surrounded as she was by her peers and teachers.

Which was not to say that he didn't observe her then either, but Alex didn't find that particularly satisfying. He'd only been minimally briefed on the Clock Tower, a collection of mages united in the modern world, but a mere glance upon those people told him all he needed to know of their character.

How could he not know after all, when he'd known them his entire life? Oh yes their names were different, the titles in English instead of Greek, but their hollow smiles remained affixed, their calculating gazes unchanged from his time in his father's court. They were nobles, politicians, liars and schemers, so tantalizingly familiar to the early days of his childhood that it took effort for him not to sneer in distaste.

To survive in such an environment required one to either play the game at their level or to smash through their lies and manipulations through brute force. It was plain enough to see that Sakura was more the former than the latter, and he would be a poor Servant indeed to judge his Master solely upon those observations as she fought for her life. He was thankful, then, to have the opportunity to know his Master without such deception hovering over them both.

He turned to Sakura, about to speak, before he paused. That did not mean, of course, that his Master was bereft of worries of her own, if her own countenance was any indication. He studied her for a moment longer before speaking. _"Distracted about something, Master?"_

Through their bond, he received the impression of a smile. _"Something like that. I'm thinking of what to cook for Senpai."_

He felt his lips twist into a knowing grin. This was looking to be a very promising morning. _"Ah. That boy, eh? You know you've been very careful in making sure I've never even seen him, are you perchance hiding him from me?"_

" _M-maybe."_ She admitted shyly, and Alex chuckled. Something in his tone seemed to concern the girl, and her head jerked to the side slightly, eyes widening like she'd made a mistake.

" _N-not that I was trying to keep anything from you of course-"_

Alex laughed, his voice youthful and exuberant, and she relaxed slightly. _"Your reasons are your own. Keep them if you like, but it seems that you've been trying very hard to ensure I was busy with something or other whenever you'd visit. Why the sudden change of heart?"_

Long moments passed as they walked nearly side by side, the gentle activity of the market eventually melting away into the quiet streets. Eventually, she spoke.

" _If I'm around Senpai, he'll be in danger."_ She thought aloud, her voice no longer quite as shy. Instead, she was speaking in clipped, distant, tones. Like she was reciting from a list in her head, forcing her thoughts into a particular pattern. Alex's laughter quieted, the Servant silently listening. _"Until I win the war, until this is all over, I can't be with him. This'll probably be the last time I'll see him for a while. If things go badly, this'll be the last time I'll ever see him."_

Alexander remained quiet, so the girl continued on. _"So I was thinking of…of telling him to be careful maybe. Just to be safe, maybe get out of the city while he still could. And if he didn't listen to me, then at least you'd know what he looked like, you'd know that he was important to me. You could protect him, if I wasn't able to."_

" _A sound plan."_ Alex nodded. _"Do you think he'll reciprocate?"_

She frowned, a bit of color returning to her face. _"R-reciprocate what?"_

The Servant rolled his eyes. _"Your feelings for him obviously. My form might not be me at my best, but I don't need to be fully grown to see that you're smitten by the man."_

Sakura widened her eyes, before averting her gaze with an embarrassed sound. _"Sensei said that you were a…. problematic Servant, when he was your Master. I didn't understand what he meant by that, though I think I'm starting to."_

Alex laughed at that, ignoring the strange looks he got as he followed her along. _"Perhaps you are! So, what with you being so smitten by the man, I expect him to be a rather notable individual! Tell me more of him."_

The silence here was longer, but Alex didn't mind. It was only reasonable for a maiden in love to gather her thoughts after all, and it would be particularly rude if he interrupted her from her thoughts.

A moment later he stumbled into her, nearly barreling them both onto the sidewalk before the Servant quickly wrapped his arms around her. She was suddenly frigid, her arms almost unnaturally cold to the touch as she stared straight ahead, eyes affixed on something out of sight. He turned his gaze ahead, noting the emergency services, the crowd of concerned onlookers, the ruin of a residential home-

"Rider." His Master spoke, and this time it was without the hesitancy and fragility of before. There was a tension present, a different kind of brittleness, even as Sakura stared at the ruined house with glassy eyes. "Astral form. Investigate the house. Find what you can."

He knew better than to tarry. By the time his Master had finished speaking, Rider was already in the air, his body held aloft by the force of his jump, his physical body escaping the shirt and jeans that had been supplied to him and revealing his true form. A set of crimson leather armor found itself around his body, a matching cape trailing behind him as he landed invisibly among the ruins, emergency services scuttling past him.

"-ent on for how long?"

"At least an hour. Initial blaze predicted to occur around 11:30 to 11:50pm, first responders didn't arrive until at least 1am."

"Shit."

"Yeah its bad."

"Did we find any bodies? Who even lived here?"

"No bodies yet, property listed as belonging to Fujimura."

"…..fuck me, is this Yakuza?"

Rider walked past the emergency services, eyes cast throughout the shattered household. That it looked bad went without saying, noxious ash and burnt ruins, scattered embers and blackened snow. Magic had been involved somehow, dirt gouged out in great craters, the very ground itself burnt to glass by some raging conflagration. At the very back of his mind he felt something tingling, a faint memory, of a far away battlefield and shattered conquests.

This was no accident. Blood was shed here, a battle fought by things beyond the capacity of mortal men. Rider felt his blood quicken, his heart beat faster as his eyes gravitated towards a thin ravine no thicker than his finger, stretching from the middle of the yard all the way to the house itself. His hands reached to his side, drawing forth his blade and angling it parallel to the ravine.

No ravine then. A blade. A Servant had been here, likely two at least. They had fought, and they had shattered this place and turned a home to ash.

He blinked, looking down to find his hands trembling. With a sharp implementation of his will he forced the tremors to cease, sheathing his blade as he opened his mind to the girl.

" _Master. There were Servants here, at least two. A Saber at least, though whoever the other one was seemed to be capable of ranged combat."_

"… _.did they find any bodies?"_

Her tone was curiously empty, and he found himself shaking his head. _"No, it doesn't seem like it."_

She breathed out suddenly, the tension broken, and Rider breathed out a sigh of relief. _"Then Senpai might still be alive. I'm sorry Rider, but we'll have to eat breakfast later."_

" _Aww, here I was, looking forward to that tuna."_

" _I'll make it up to you."_ She promised, though the warmth he'd been accustomed to was no longer there. How curious. _"Senpai's a much better cook than me anyway, I'm sure you'll be much more satisfied with his cooking than mine."_

" _If you say so."_ Rider sighed. _"What about the other one?"_

" _Hmm?"_

" _The ones that did this to your Senpai's home?"_

" _Ah."_ She noted cutely, and somehow he got the impression that she was surprised. _"Well it's obvious isn't it? We kill them."_

He blinked at that, shaking his head and forcing a chuckle. Very curious indeed.

" _As you command, Master."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This took far longer than I expected. The Lancer portion of this chapter was about halfway done before I scrapped it in favor of its current iteration. The Rider section experienced a similar, though not as severe, rewrite as well.
> 
> On another note, I now have a Patreon, https://www.patreon.com/lordcaelum. In case anyone would like to support me that way. I'll continue writing regardless, but will allow me to gauge interest and feasibility for long-term writing projects, both in this story and others. The dream would be two chapters a week, though everything considered, I imagine it'll be something of a journey to get there first.


	20. 3.0 Alliances

3.0 Alliances

I knew that I was going to have a busy day today. A few hours from now, dawn would break and I’d need to talk to the mercenaries. Of course, I’d have to debrief them on all that occurred last night, but more importantly I’d need to converse with them on the specifics of what exactly they may or may not know by now in regards to the war. After that, I’d have a few more hours until I’d have to meet with the Tohsaka Master and figure out if I still want her as a potential Master. After _that_ , I’d probably have to haul ass and make my way to the Einzbern and figure out if there was a way to align myself with her despite the minimal amount of resources I would have to offer her. Then, while this was all going on, I’d probably have to adapt and fend off any theoretical attempts on my life by the other enemy Servants. I couldn’t imagine the enemy just letting me do all this in the middle of the day without consequence after all.

Undoubtedly, I was going to be run ragged today, so why was I entertaining this fool’s request for a duel? Credit where credit was due, it wasn’t any old fool, but Cu Chulainn. The Eire’s Child of Light. The Hound of Culann. a demigod, the offspring between a mortal woman and Lugh, a God of the Eire that was both masterful warrior and wise king. This wasn’t some half-forgotten knight in some long defunct kingdom I was fighting, but an honest-to-divinity near mythical figure.

And here I was, Tanya von Degurechaff, mortal woman, picking a fight with the Eire’s equivalent of Hercules. It was more than obvious enough on paper than I wasn’t likely to win, by dint of my role as Caster I was suited more for defensive postures and strategic management, not aggressive one on one duels. Considering all the things I had to do today, expending my energy to duel him was likely the last thing I should be doing right now.

Now as unwise as my current predicament was, I was compelled to concede that there some advantages to dueling Lancer at this stage of the game. Once Galliasta died and I find another Master to serve, the odds were good that my new Master would require me to neutralize my old comrade. In such a situation, going into a lethal fight against Cu Chulainn without any collected information as to his capabilities and skills would be downright idiotic. Suicide by lancer, essentially. What was worst then, was if I failed to actually carry out my Master’s orders of removing Lancer from the field, I was likely going to be derided as useless. That, as far as I was concerned, would essentially be a slower, but no less certain, path to death than simply letting Cu Chulainn stab me with his spear. A Servant without a Master’s trust was no longer a partner but a tool, and tools were rarely if ever indispensable.

As such, Lancer’s offer of a duel was the perfect opportunity to test him for his capabilities. The perfect opportunity to see him in action, to fight him in a fairly controlled environment without the threat of death hanging over my head. I essentially had no choice but to move forward with the duel, not if I wanted to maintain my long term prospects, and not if I wanted to defeat Lancer one day.

“So, what do you think of Akitsushima?” Lancer asked curiously, a hand on his weapon as the spear rested lazily upon his shoulder. “Yeah, I know that the Grail imparts us knowledge of the modern world and all that crap, but its not the same as actually _living_ it right?”

Well I suppose I would agree with him on principle, if not for the fact that I already did live through this country in one form or another. Still, I doubted that Lancer was asking how I felt about the cost of a train ticket comparative between Akitsushima and Germania. “It’s well enough, though I might not understand exactly what it is you’re aiming at. Are you thinking of settling in here after the war?”

The other Servant made a sound that I suppose could be vaguely considered to be a laugh. “Pfft, you’re a funny one aren’t you? Live here? In Akitsushima? In the present day? Oh no honey. That’d be a hilarious time for everyone involved, I’m sure, but that life’s just not for me.”

“Indeed.” I respond, for lack of anything better to say. Lancer seemed to take my acquiescence for agreement, before humming to himself as he followed me through the halls, eyes interestedly taking in everything he found.

It was difficult talking to Lancer, I simply didn’t know how to engage with him in a way that allowed for comfortable, natural, conversation. I’d felt it a bit before, right before Lancer had decided to come with me to the Tower, but even then there was the possibility of violence or aggression, which at the very least I knew how to deal with. Now that he was acting in the role of an ally, as much value as that could be said to have in this war, it was worse now. I wasn’t certain why exactly this difficulty was present, I’d spoken to Archer just fine, and as much as it seemed Saber and I would likely be working at cross purposes, I never felt particularly awkward around her.

The most likely reason was that unlike the other two, I knew of Lancer’s true identity. What with his significance in the mythology of the Eire, his own accomplishments as well as the age of his legend, I suppose it was only natural that I would feel somewhat insecure around him. To put it into a business context, it was like the middle manager of a mildly successful section of the business finding herself working together with the company’s founder.

It would have been easier if he’d been aloof and arrogant, at least that was easy enough to work around. Instead, he insisted on this strange sort of informal, relaxed, state of being that reminded me of some unemployed deadbeat working from welfare check to welfare check as their life collapsed all around them. A figure ostensibly open to correction and derision, except for the fact that he’d earned every second of that deadbeat persona.

I sighed. Things were easier when I was alive. At least back then I knew where I stood with Jiuzhou or the Rus Successor States or even those cantankerous fools in Magna Rumeli. At least I’d know whether they were more interested in helping me or irritating me, though more often than not they were liable to do both. Lancer defied such easy categorization, not helped along by the fact that despite what he may think about our current alliance, I might have to kill him someday what with my impending separation with Galliasta. It was unfortunate that he was almost likeable, though that was a great deal better than if he’d been _actually_ likeable.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Caster?” Lancer commented, and even without looking I could tell he had a grin plastered on his face. “Did you finally make up your mind on whether or not you’d slee-“

“And now, we’re here.” I note brightly, overpowering whatever it was he was about to say, and slammed through the door with all the subtlety of an armored carrier through a burning building. My hands were upraised for a moment, suitably dramatic that it was, and it seemed that I’d grabbed the attention of everyone inside.

The Tower itself was originally a commercial building owned and controlled by Galliasta and his family, and as such the one thing it had in abundance was space. Multiple floors had been renovated and prepared months in advance for the habitation and use of the mercenaries Galliasta had been planning on hiring, then subsequently enchanted every square inch of this place, from the walls to the furniture and finally to the internal skeleton of the building itself. Then, even with all that preparation, there was still enough excess room that those tenants and mercantile assets that had previously been inhabiting the building were retained. Yes, this was partially done so as to generate income for the coming war, but their primary use was to serve as human shields against a potential incursion by his enemies.

The room I’d brought Lancer to was part of the former, those rooms that had been folded into a workable asset for the mercenaries. It was something of a training room, halfway caught between a gym, dueling ring and practical testing ground for the Tresillo’s breaching strategies. As such it had been reinforced with protective spells and other such assets, the room itself even regenerating from any damage it incurs, making it an excellent place for our duel. It was just before dawn now, and if I recalled the Tresillo’s schedule they should be shifting into a skeleton crew now. Given the choice between daytime or nighttime operations, I’d obviously ordered my forces to settle into a nocturnal schedule. The odds of needing them for large scale operations at night were vastly more likely than having them operate in the day, and if the rigors of the war required me to deploy them in significant numbers in the middle of the day then something would have likely gone very, very, wrong somewhere along the way.

At a glance, it seemed that the room was primarily composed of people from Fang and Laurent’s team, though only Laurent himself seemed to be here. Judging by their current postures, it seemed that they’d been in the middle of combat exercises, though informal enough that the sole squad commander present wasn’t directly involved in their activities. They seemed fairly concerned at our arrival, with the men closest to us dropping what they were doing to give us a rather stiff looking salute. I returned the salute, with Lancer returning the gesture towards the men with a lazy wave, which only confused some of the men further.

Eventually, Laurent had extricated himself from the rest of the men, jogging to our position and greeting me with a nod. The man was out of his combat gear, revealing a slightly chubby figure with dark green hair and calm eyes. Despite his apparent calm, I noted that his gaze was flickering more towards the other Servant than me for a few brief moments, before he focused his attention on me once more.

“Ma’am.” He says, tone neutral. “I wasn’t aware of anything planned for this morning, is there an ongoing op we should be ready for?”

I suppose I could understand the man jumping to that conclusion, given the circumstances. The combat op against Archer last night would have almost certainly gotten my men nervous, considering that the Tresillo would be aware of a potential hostile with which they knew nothing about. On top of that, I was wearing the grey and dark blue uniform of the Tresillo, which would obviously prompt many of them to imagine that I was here for business.

“Not at all, Lieutenant.” I replied, keeping my tone as relaxed as possible so as to allay any concern he might feel. It didn’t seem to work, or perhaps he was merely the consummate professional type, and merely waited patiently for me to continue. “My guest and I were merely intending a friendly spar, and were going to use the room for it was all.”

Laurent paused at that, his gaze leaving mine and over to Lancer. The other Servant had opted out of using anything so convenient as a uniform to shroud his peculiarities, and insisted on wearing the blue body suit. Lancer smiled back at Laurent, adjusting his shift on his spear, which to his credit Laurent made no response to.

“I see.” He considered for a moment. “Very well then, I’ll be directing the rest of the men to one of the other sites on floor 31 so as to give you two a bit of privacy.”

I smiled. Of the Tresillo leaders I’d had the pleasure of interacting with so far, I appreciated Laurent the most so far. He had a quiet sort of dependability that I appreciated greatly in my subordinates, along with a disposition that did not incline him towards asking any inconvenient questions. Had he been in my Corps while I was alive, I couldn’t help but imagine him climbing far into the ranks, or at the very least to be recruited into one of Elya’s many operations. I was about to thank him for his thoughtfulness, when Lancer interfered.

“Privacy? Oh nah, don’t worry about it man.” The irish headache noted, smiling in that self-satisfied way of his. “Hell if you like, you could get the rest of your little band and we can have ourselves a betting pool, really spice things up a bit.”

The mercenary blinked at his words, before looking over at me in askance. For my part, I merely kept my expression calm and composed, even as I felt a bubbling sort of irritation towards my fellow Servant. “As my guest has asked, if your men would like to stay and observe then they may.”

Laurent nodded with some degree of hesitation before walking off towards the rest of the mercenaries, who’d largely clumped up into their own little group as they observed the three of us talking. As soon as the man was out of easy eavesdropping distance, I whirled on Lancer, who maintained that self-satisfied look on your face.

“I understand that the concept of self-restraint might be something alien to you.” I began, stifling my own irritation as best I could. “But doesn’t it strike you as not being particularly proper _or_ appropriate for us to have our little spar in front of the mercenaries? At the very least if you’re interested in testing your strength against mine, having observers on hand would rather stifle our ability to go all out, wouldn’t you say?”

He blinked at that, seemingly confused, before his free hand reached towards the back of his head. A moment later, the light of realization blossomed in his eyes. “Huh, you didn’t tell them about the war?”

“Of course not. Operational security, they don’t _need_ to know. The rules of the war are suitably vague enough that their addition wouldn’t cause any significant fuss, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with them observing our more superhuman abilities, wouldn’t you say?”

Lancer frowned. “No, not really. I kinda assumed you already told them all about the war, since you’re working with them and all that. It’s what I’d do anyway, since it’d be such a hassle having to keep that from your men in the middle of a war, don’t ya think? I mean, what are you gonna say the moment another Servant attacks the building and tries to crack this place like an egg?”

I quirked my brow at that. “I’d describe them as anomalous assets belonging to one of the many supernational organizations currently in the world today. If and when they need to know, they will. Besides, I’d assumed that the moment you suspected their awareness of the war you’d go off and say something irritating and troublesome and exacerbate the situation. Something like, ‘Oh all these guys know about the war but aren’t Magi right? I think that means we should kill them.’ Or something similarly idiotic like that.”

Lancer put on a vaguely heartbroken look, ruined only by the fact that his lips were struggling not to form into a thoroughly amused smirk. “Caster, you wound me. Those are the actions of a brute, surely you don’t think of me as a brute, do you?”

I ignored the obvious bait. The odds of him having a pre-prepared line for his question was too high, as was the odds that responding to his bait would only increase my frustration. Instead, I opted for a different tact. “You’re obviously bloodthirsty enough for it. Why else would you have wanted to duel me in the first place?”

He scoffed, the amusement fleeing into the wind as the heartbroken façade transforming into something resembling actual irritation. “Honestly, Caster. I wanted to duel you because you’d obviously be a worthy opponent, I’m not some mad dog that relishes in pointless murder. I just thought that if you chose to keep these warriors around you, then they must be of _some_ merit and deserve to watch our match.”

For a moment, I frowned. I was aware that people in his era would likely have values different from mine, but I still needed a few moments to absorb what exactly he’d said to me before I could parse through it. The moment I did, however, I realized what exactly he was doing.

The Bastard was playing me! The Tresillo were obviously curious with what happened last night, and due to my own laxness in explaining things to them properly they were likely rabid with the need to know more. They’d seen me fight Archer, seen the unusual displays of magic that both he and I were capable of, and had likely been talking amongst themselves about it ever since. What Lancer had done was give them the opportunity to satisfy their curiosity, while framing me as the bad guy if I refused.

But even that maneuver was just icing on the cake. The real purpose for all this was to limit any information I can get from our duel. If my men were watching, then that forced me into operating at the performance level of a baseline human. Sure, I could amplify my strength and speed, but I couldn’t use any of my more esoteric abilities without the natural consequence of the Tresillo asking me some very pointed questions later on. On top of that, by nature of his very class Lancer himself wouldn’t have to expend much effort or energy to get me to reveal my secrets. In a contest between a Lancer and a Caster, a Caster would obviously be reliant upon her spells while a Lancer need only rely on his physical augmentations and skill with his weapon, not exactly a particularly anomalous skillset as far as secrets went. I, on the other hand, had plenty to hide and if I didn’t want to humiliate myself in front of my entire work force then I’d have to fight at an appropriate level to the other Servant.

I grit my teeth. “Alright, you’ve made your point. They can watch, and we’ll fight.”

* * *

In contrast to the Saber class, Lancers prioritized speed and agility coupled with sheer precision with a long-range weapon that allowed them to dictate the range and engagement profile of their opponent. They were the happy mid-point between the melee domination that the Saber class typically favored and the long range kiting a typical Archer might employ, and thus enjoyed a flexible skillset to both without the mastery of either.

I imagined that in a fight against Saber or Archer, Lancer would likely do fairly well. The battle with Archer had highlighted than the red Servant did not possess the necessary mobility to outpace an opponent faster than him, which meant that Lancer would likely be able to force such an opponent into a more favorable melee match up than the long-range offensive his opponent would favor. A fight against Saber would be much trickier, and would largely depend on Lancer’s specific capabilities. I could imagine that Lancer could theoretically perform a series of hit and runs against Saber, striking some chink in her armor before disappearing into the darkness before she could strike back. At the same time, I could easily imagine Saber managing to close the distance and subsequently gut Lancer before he had the opportunity to respond.

Then again, I should probably stop daydreaming about what enemies to send my new partner against. If I lost to him in a spectacularly humiliating way, I doubt I’d be able to influence him to take the war more seriously, never mind directing strategic decisions on his behalf.

It had been maybe twenty minutes since the Tresillo were informed of the impending duel, and what with it being just before dawn and all that, they responded remarkably quickly. Rodriguez was present, his entire body filled with the sort of excitable energy one would imagine a Labrador would have, as he went through the line of mercenaries collecting bets. Laurent and Fang were huddled in a corner, whispering to each other as they studied Lancer and I, though I noted that for the moment they seemed to be studying the other Servant more than me. Reasonable enough, though I imagined that I’d have to answer a few very curious questions once the debrief started.

Isabel wasn’t here, which was completely reasonable. She’d be dead tired by now, what with the events of yesterday, if not from physical exhaustion then a mental one. I wouldn’t comment on it now, but I’d certainly have to rake her ass on the coals if she missed the debrief.

“Wow, I was kinda joking, but they really came in hard on this one huh?” Lancer whistled, eyeing the Tresillo as a whole. At a rough estimate, maybe a little less than three-fourths of the mercenary contingent were here. Rather remarkable numbers for an off the cuff activity. “You must be keeping them hard on the leash, if they came out this quickly to see a little duel.”

“Or perhaps they’re curious at the man in the blue skinsuit.” I shot back easily. “You’re certainly making the women in the company distracted, I haven’t seen Fang this curious at another person since….well, ever really.”

Lancer blinked at that, before smirking. “Aww, Caster. You shoulda told me you had your eyes on me. Now I feel all bashful and shit.”

I stifled a curse on my lips and refused to allow any hint of my irritation to show. Lancer was well versed in psychological warfare, a rather pretty way of saying that he had a propensity to annoy people that likely carried itself over well in live combat. While I did not think of myself as particularly weak in that regard, I knew that I wouldn’t have had nearly half as much practice with that skillset while I was alive. After all, when the most interaction one would likely have with another mage was shooting them down from over a mile away and watching them explode into a hundred different body parts, there wasn’t a lot left to be said to their corpse really. Not that I was planning on dismembering Lancer to a similar degree, merely flirting heavily with the idea.

“This should be enough.” I say finally, turning away from the crowd and towards Lancer. “To first blood or yield, as agreed correct?”

“Yeah sure.” Lancer acquiesced. His form was lazy and open, his arms strung up and wrapped around his spear, the weapon itself perched atop his shoulder like some demented flagpole. “You know, of all the other Servants in the war, I didn’t expect my first real fight to be against you, Caster. I hope you make things interesting at least.”

I ignored Lancer’s words, my mind set on the problem of trying to beat him. From the previous conversations, it was clear enough that Lancer either didn’t quite know the specifics of my legend or was doing a remarkably good job in trying to convince me of that fact. Operating from the first possibility, it implied a certain degree of uncertainty in his impression of me. Uncertainty which could be exploited in the short term, but which would disappear the longer combat would continue. The second possibility was that Lancer _did_ know, but was baiting me into making a mistake which was serious but of much less immediate concern. If the Child of Light was capable of deception, I wouldn’t know of it until the last possible moment. I doubted that the Lancer would give away such highly relevant information in the middle of a practice match, not when he’d already given his word for it to be a nonlethal fight.

As such, my analysis would consider the possibility of his ignorance of my legend as the primary foundation for all further analysis. Contrary to what one would expect, the ignorance of, and thus possible uncertainty generated because of it, was not necessarily a point in my favor.

The uncertainty may allow for a degree of opportunity, in that Lancer could theoretically make mistakes in engaging me based upon that uncertainty, but the odds for that were low. This wasn’t some trumped up, mage graduate fresh off of the Berun Institute, this was a Heroic Spirit. Our kind didn’t get to this position by making _mistakes_.

I saw that in my fight with Archer as well. The man was like a machine the entire time, ruthlessly selecting methods to maximize his chances of success while minimizing the possibility of failure, but not a single move he made in execution of those directives was a mistake. He was not possessed of a frail human constitution such that his eyes would glaze over or his limbs tremble, he did not allow panic or fear disrupt the utilitarian equations operating within his skull. As far as physical exertion went, he performed perfectly, and to think that another member of the Knight Class would fare any less was a foolish delusion.

What was worse was that the stratagem I had committed towards Archer would not likely work with Lancer. The strategy had presupposed that Archer would have acquired a fairly comprehensive look at my abilities, thus formulating a method to supposedly counter me, whereupon I could negate those same abilities with methods I’d kept hidden up until the critical moment. All things considered, up until the moment I was blindsided by his own trump card, I’d had multiple redundancies so as to reduce the threat he posed to me. I also took advantage of the fact that an Archer’s typical weakness was their inability to respond quickly enough to a fast-paced opponent; in a situation wherein an Archer was incapable of moving faster than their opponent while at the same time not possessing sufficient firepower to overwhelm their enemy, they were likely caught dead in the water.

Such weaknesses did not apply to Lancer. Even assuming that I could stall long enough for Lancer to gain a false sense of confidence, a monumental exertion in its own right when the defining quality of a Lancer was their agility and proficiency in hit and run tactics. As such, with a protracted duel likely being less than ideal for me, I would need to compel him to make the first move. By doing so, he would still retain that iota of uncertainty that would possibly make further steps possible, while limiting any bourgeoning familiarity with my fighting style as much as possible.

Ultimately, it came down to insufficient data. I did not know what strategies would work, I did not know his response to those strategies. The duel would be my effort to reduce those unknowns to an acceptable amount, such that I’d possess enough data to make an educated guess in true combat.

Lancer was looking at me now, his eyes curious and analytical, and I suppose now was as good a time as any.

“Lancer.”

He blinked, before smiling. “Yes, my dear?”

“Let’s make a bet. If I win, you go and teach my men your technique for close quarters combat.”

There was a murmur at that, and Lancer whistled in appreciation. “That’s a big ask, though since we’re friends and all, that shouldn’t be too hard. But what do I get if I win?”

I smiled, portraying confidence I did not at all feel that I had. “Whatever you want, I suppose.”

The murmuring heightened at that, and Lancer’s smirk turned into a wide grin. “Well, in that case I suppose I shouldn’t disappoint a lady.”

Heroic Spirits were naturally dramatic. It was the nature of the profession I suppose, one did not reach the heights of my kind without having gained the collective attention and fascination of Humanity as a whole. In such a case, dramatic actions such as Cu Chulainn’s own manner of death, Napoleon’s return from exile or other such…unnecessarily grandiose actions became a sticking point in the human cultural consciousness. As such, it was typical for Heroic Spirits to play into that drama whenever the option was available.

I’d given Lancer an opening to do that, with my offer and my counter-response, so I was expecting him to do something. I was as prepared for him as I could possibly be, given that I’d allowed him the advantage of initial momentum.

Him disappearing from my sight in a flash of blue light was still something of a surprise though.

Decades of combat experience screamed at me to move, and so I did. I heard screams of shock and alarm as a portion of my vision went red and the sudden velocity of his strike causing a whirlwind to spontaneously manifest itself around me. I’d responded to the blow late, and if I had relied entirely upon my own natural reflexes I would have been skewered instantly. As such I compensated by leveraging my magical energy into a sudden burst of sideways velocity, moving just barely fast enough for Lancer to have missed his stab. The weapon, a bloody crimson in my vision, seemed almost disappointed that I’d dodged as it glinted hungrily. A moment later the sharp edge of his lance disappeared, and I could feel the changing wind pressure as the lance’s cylindrical shaft came at me from the opposite direction, fully intending to collapse the back of my skull.

The mechanics of kinetic motion made a conventional dodge here impossible. I’d jumped away from Lancer’s stab, and the other Servant had adjusted his subsequent momentum into a spinning attack that would leave me concussed against the weapon’s backward momentum, which was also exactly the direction I’d chosen to dodge towards. It was a delightfully simple, fiendishly effective, first strike and if it wasn’t happening to me I would have appreciated the sheer brutal artistry of it all.

Nonetheless, the mechanics of my own mastery of computation magic gave me a way out. More specifically, its capability in the complete operation of the concepts of momentum and velocity, the foundational cornerstone of all that a mage could do. As such, with my momentum and kinetic energy forcing me headlong into Lancer’s spear, a twitch of my will transformed my velocity _towards_ Lancer, a change in direction so abrupt and unnatural that I could see the Servant’s eyes widen in surprise. With the speed I was travelling, it would be impractical to construct armaments or personnel to reasonably hamper or injure him, so I was rather limited on offensive options. As such, I strengthened my shield, allowed my momentum to shift for a moment upwards, and headbutted Lancer in the face.

It wasn’t a clean hit, and it certainly wasn’t anything I’d advocate on a regular basis. Headbutting the other Servant wasn’t even all that accurate in the first place, considering that it was closer to me just throwing myself completely unto the Servant’s body, albeit headfirst.

The end results spoke for themselves though, with the unexpected attack upsetting his balance, both Lancer and I were sent sprawling on the floor, the shocked screams and cheers of the Tresillo behind us. I didn’t let the momentary turnaround affect me however, even with the split-second advantage I’d torn from his grip, Lancer was already getting back up to his feet, weapon in hand as he tried to create more distance between us. That, more than anything else, wasn’t something I could allow and so I rushed up to him, fists and limbs suffused with magic as I struck at him again and again.

In terms of sheer kinetic output, I was fairly certain any one of my blows would be sufficient to break bone, but Lancer himself survived through it relatively unscathed. He dodged my blows when he could, parried those that he couldn’t with his spear, and in the rare occasions that either was insufficient, simply took the blows upon his body with a crimson grin on his face.

“What’s this, what’s this, what’s this!?!” Lancer cackled, as he raised his spear to block an overhead axe kick, only to dance away as I abruptly reversed my momentum at the last second and flipped my entire orientation in reverse, unleashing an upwards roundhouse kick that only just narrowly missed his head. “Are you really a Caster? You’ve _got_ to teach me more of this magic!”

I didn’t respond, speaking out in combat when you could be doing literally anything else was the gravest of sins, but Lancer himself didn’t seem to mind much. He unleashed a barrage of thrusts that turned the air around me into a storm of crimson death, my shield cracking beneath the blows. I wasn’t particularly concerned at the severity of the damage he inflicted, but it was a worthwhile trade so as to maintain the current engagement profile.

Instead, moments before the shield broke, I overloaded it with excess energy. The crystal shards of my shield vibrating into light, turning into shards of pure energy that broke exactly as my shield did and subsequently flooding the immediate area with blinding light. I’d been prepared beforehand, so I’d known to avert my eyes at the last second, but Lancer’s battle instincts were so finely tuned that the moment he saw me avert my eyes he did the same.

No matter, blinding Lancer would have only been the cherry on top. Lancer averting his gaze meant that he couldn’t easily respond to any unexpected changes to the battlefield, or if he did respond, he’d do so at a significantly degraded pace.

Below him, manifesting through the layers of steel between the Tower’s floors and far, far, away from any reasonable expectations of predicting such a move, were several kilograms worth of high explosive shaped in an upwards breaching charge. The explosion shattered the ground, burning Lancer and enveloping him in a shroud of deadly shrapnel that would have killed a mortal man thrice over.

I wasn’t planning on killing him of course, if I was I wouldn’t have settled on such a lukewarm attack. However, I _did_ expect that such an unexpected attack would have triggered at least a few of his contingencies. He had to have them, in one form or another, a Heroic Spirit of his age and fame would likely have had several particularly nasty skills held in reserve just in case. Perhaps it would reflect the damage back to me, perhaps it wouldn’t work on this specific instance, but I’d maneuvered him into a situation where he’d _have_ to show some of his trump cards. Otherwise, the shrapnel and heat would cripple him enough that it would be substantially easier to win.

In a sense, I got what I wanted, though not in the way that I expected.

The fire and heat suffused our immediate area, and I could tell from Lancer’s subsequent snarl that at the very least I’d inconvenienced him for the moment. At the sound, I rushed forward, knives forming in my hands as my form shifted in the visual spectrum. A moment later, three versions of me were rushing in, knives gleaming in the smoke and flame, ready to stab at Lancer at the first opportunity.

They weren’t _really_ me, of course. The nature of visual illusions had changed much since the 40s, though the practical application of it remained the same. Fidelity of image clarity had gone up, the processing necessary to manifest such an illusion moderately reduced with the onset of more efficient networking architecture. Despite all that, to increase the effectiveness of an illusion’s appearance so as to mimic real life still required considerable resources, and further dictated that the optimal strategy for their use into two methods. The first would be the coordinated use of such illusions to deceive an opponent’s reconnaissance efforts, while the second would be in brief moments like this, whereupon the enemy is at their most confused and disorientated so as to maximize one’s attack.

Still, I didn’t trust solely on the illusions, which was why I required the secondary distraction that was the explosion. I wouldn’t put it past Lancer to be able to spot a notable difference between myself and my clones if given the freedom of a few seconds thought. In the current situation, he’d have to rely on his instinct, which while formidable all on its own could still theoretically be deceived.

His Lance went straight for a clone’s neck, blindingly fast, such that if I was the clone I would have had doubts on whether I could have dodged or blocked in time. With the added burden of having to puppet the clone, and the lag in response time stemming from that as a consequence, the clone was killed instantly. It shattered into bright fragments, the sudden dissolution seemingly confusing Lancer, before the illusion transformed into another flash bang and blinded the other Servant once more.

I twisted my leg, aiming it towards Lancer’s knee, only for the Servant to switch his stance just in time, resulting in me kicking his thigh instead. I used his leg as leverage, hooking one arm around his weapon as I used my free hand to stab him in the face. Lancer dodged once again, my strike grazing that ridiculous spiked hair he had, before his other knee rushed upwards in an effort to strike me in the gut.

The blow struck, and I could feel my internal organs shift as a consequence, but I struggled through the pain. As it currently stood, Lancer was off balance, both hands on his weapon, his one leg off the ground, the other leg pseudo-pinned by my own foot. Magic circulated through my body, energy enveloping my body as my other hand let go of the knife to establish a firmer hold over his weapon. Lancer seemed to notice I was up to something, but any attempt to waylay me was silenced by the now free knife spiraling straight towards his head. He dodged it, which was becoming depressingly common at this stage, but the distraction was sufficient for me to hook his upraised knee with my other leg, locking him into place.

With a crackle of energy and a sonic boom that erupted throughout the training room, I flew myself into the ceiling at hypersonic speed.

I knew he was a warrior beyond compare, and warriors such as him did not let go of their weapons in the middle of a heated fight like ours. Consequently, his grip on his weapon did not waver, and my flight carried him with me. Lancer screamed and laughed in exultation, not a trace of fear in his voice, and a moment before I would have crashed and brained myself all across the ceiling I aborted my movement and let go of Lancer’s weapon.

Lancer, of course, did not have such convenient access to computation technology and subsequently hit the ceiling with his inherited kinetic energy. Concrete collapsed and metal creaked, a small shockwave affecting the floor above us as a thunderous sound told me all I needed to know about the success of my strategy. There was a moment of silence, where I could see nothing through the cloud of dust and debris I’d created.

And then, Lancer fell to the ground.

Yet despite it all, the man was still conscious. His eyes were lit aflame, an energy and lust for battle that seemed to consume any and all rationality he may have once had. There were scratches across the top of his head, a thin layer of dust and pulverized concrete, the result of the sudden impact against the ceiling. Absurdly enough, not a single cut from the earlier explosion seemed to have graced his form. He’d managed to block every single shrapnel from that explosion, either that or he managed to dodge somehow, and while that in and of itself smelled like obscene amounts of bullshit to me, I had to concede that it was probably better to learn that now instead of at a more inappropriate time.

But that was all the least of my concerns at the moment. His grin wide, his eyes alight with bloodlust, the other Servant seemed unwilling to concede. His mouth moved, though with all the chaos I was unable to determine what exactly he said, though the effects of his words were easy enough to see. A sudden sense of bloodlust filled the room, crimson energy forming itself at the tip of his lance, which I suddenly realized was now ready in a thrown position aimed straight at me.

With a start, I recognized that he was preparing to throw his Noble Phantasm at me. A very, very, small part of my mind was quite enthused at the knowledge that whatever his secret weapon entailed, it had to do with actually throwing the weapon at his enemy. It suggested a moment of vulnerability right after using it, which meant that if he used his Noble Phantasm on one Servant, he would be vulnerable to a follow up attack from the rest of that Servant’s allies. This knowledge, atop the faintly narcissistic notion that I’d managed to fight Cu Chulainn to such an extent so as to force him to use his trump card, was fairly satisfying all around and accomplished my primary objective of discovering more of Lancer’s secrets.

That feeling was of secondary importance compared to the complete and utter fear that enveloped me at the sight of the weapon. This wasn’t some simple blade like what Archer had used on me, or the dark weapon that Saber had wielded in her fight with me. There was an obscene level of bloodlust here, a need for death and destruction that passed whatever level of dark foreboding that Saber’s own weapon possessed, the closest approximation I could think of at the moment.

I had no idea whether I’d be able to dodge it. While it was clear enough to me that whatever maneuver he was committed to was a Noble Phantasm, I wasn’t clear on its type. If it was intended as an anti-personnel weapon, to completely obliterate a single person, then it was likely that replacing myself with a clone would be insufficient to deceive his offense. If his attack had an area of effect element, which is to say, it would explode on contact, then there was the brief possibility that I could still escape. Rush through the walls, use my superior speed to burst through the concrete and out to freedom. It would hurt, the human body wasn’t made to break through concrete naturally after all, but it would be a damned sight better than being in the immediate aftermath of his blow.

But that was only part of my calculations. In the event that unleashing his Noble Phantasm here would result in an area of effect response, the effect would likely break the building in twain. Even assuming that it would simply pierce through all the floors above us, leaving a sizeable hole through every level, instead of simply obliterating them instead, that still meant that only most of the people above us would die, instead of just all. Then there was the fact that the explosion would create a rain of rubble and concrete onto my men below, likely severely injuring or killing them outright.

As such, there was only one move left to play. The simplest move, which would preserve my life, the Tower and that of the soldiers beneath me.

“I concede!” I yelled out, my knife evaporating into the air, my other clone disappearing into the aether. Defenseless and weaponless, making it as clear to the Child of Light that I was no longer willing to fight.

Lancer blinked, the bloodlust and excitement in his eyes replaced with confusion and disappointment. The bloodlust from his lance seemed to scream and howl, the crimson flames slowly evaporating as Lancer fell headfirst to the ground. There were a few shouts of alarm from the observing Tresillo, possibly concerned for Lancer’s sake, but I didn’t worry.

Moments before he would have landed on his head, Lancer shifted his form, reversing his orientation and landing with his feet on the ground, somewhat nearby the explosion I’d baited him into. I descended after him, landing gently next to the Servant as I noted the slight impact crater that his landing had etched onto the ground. Lancer held his weapon in one fist, the spear held horizontally, and I noted that the frustration I could feel emanating off the weapon was mirrored in its Master’s eyes.

“That was disappointing.” Lancer commented, an irritated look on his face as he resolutely faced away from me. I couldn’t help but scoff aloud.

“I intended for a fairly subdued duel, Lancer.” I noted wryly. Lancer laughed.

“You call that stunt with the ceiling a subdued duel?”

“Better than whatever it was you were about to do with that spear.”

“Hah, you would have lived.” He said, with an absolute confidence that I was not at all sure was actually true. “Maybe you would have lost an arm or a leg, if you were actually trying, but you would have lived. It would have been a much more fitting end than a fucking concede. Man, now I’m pissed.”

I frowned at his choice of words, until I realized that Lancer wasn’t actually looking away from me in a fit of pique. Following his gaze, I felt my heart stop as I noted him staring at the spot on the floor where I’d lured him into the explosive trap. He was studying it, the shattered concrete, the melted rock, his eyes staring at something I couldn’t see.

“I disagree.” I said aloud, my mind racing. Did he notice? “Besides, even if I’d survived, you would have eviscerated half the building and every member of my people on this floor. I’m not willing to fight under those conditions.”

He scoffed again. “Whatever resources your Master had collected for this war, the building, the mercenaries, the guns, whatever. All of it pales in comparison to having summoned a Heroic Spirit, everything else is just so much unnecessary decoration.”

He made a motion with his hand, twirling his weapon until it rested against his shoulders with a loud thwack. His eyes glanced away from the scene of the explosion, looking down towards the crack marks he’d made upon the floor during his landing. Already, the impact mark was healing, the cracked concrete closing until the damage had disappeared as though it had never been there in the first place. Lancer hummed.

“I won right? Because you conceded?” He noted, his gaze turning away from the ground and back to me. “So, you owe me a favor, right? My favor is we’ll do this again. When everyone else is dead and we two are the only ones left, we’re gonna have that duel and we’ll end it properly. And you go all out, or your pretty little tricks aren’t gonna be enough to save you.”

I suppressed the chill up my spine, before nodding. “Alright.”

Just like that, the air of menace that had surrounded Lancer up until now vanished, and he gave me a smile, patting me on the shoulder. “Good fight though, seriously. _Great_ fight. I had reservations about my Master wanting to ally with a _Caster_ of all things, but I’m glad she did. You fight like a bitch Caster. An angry, ruthless, scary bitch and I respect that. I’m really, really, _really_ excited for our rematch now.”

“Right.” I said, noting the sudden feeling of vertigo and relief that washed over me at that. Lancer nodded, before his gaze shifted away from me and to something behind me. I followed his gaze, only to find the assembled mercenaries watching us both warily. Their expressions were mixed, some frightened, some disbelieving, most in awe. Little trails of dust and concrete fell from the ceiling above, the Tower laboriously repairing the damage I’d inflicted upon it.

I raised an eyebrow at the crowd, unimpressed at their reactions. What, did they think this was free entertainment or something? “Looking at something interesting?” I asked haughtily. “Debrief in ten minutes at the usual place. If you’re late, I’m feeding you to our guest here. Hop to it then.”


	21. 3.1

3.1

The meeting hall I'd chosen for the mercenaries to convene in was on the same floor as the 'duel ring', which made herding all the mercenaries there fairly simple. It was fairly modern as far as these things went, with tablet-like devices installed into the walls and conference table, a holographic projector embedded both within the table and on the ceiling above. I imagine that if I was still a salary man, such a setup would be fairly decadent as far as achieving the minimum requirements for a meeting went, but I'd still have bloody well cut myself to acquire it. I spent the minutes leading up to the meeting admiring it, thinking of all the times such a set up would have been incredibly useful in beating my former co-workers over the head with their own stupidity and incompetence.

The entirety of the Tresillo were present for the debrief, which my inner administrator found immensely satisfying. There was a nervous energy amongst them, the same sort of aimless anxiety one often had right before some momentous event like storming an enemy trench or presenting your proposal to the company CEO. Rodriguez was conversing deeply with Fang, the contents of their conversation somewhat difficult to make out beyond the fact it had something to do with the duel from earlier. Laurent was busily reviewing something on his computation device, a series of videos playing that were difficult to make out at this distance. Isabel seemed to be interrogating her squad on what had occurred earlier today, a frown steadily growing upon her brow. Amusingly enough, she seemed both immensely confused on the exact details of what had occurred while at the same time being not at all surprised that something of note had happened during her absence.

Of significant surprise was that it was not merely just the Tresillo here. At the corner of the room, a frown of distaste towards the half open bottle of beer in his hand, was Lancer. After the duel had concluded, the Servant had hung around my immediate area for a while as the crowd dispersed in preparation of the meeting, only to disappear midway through the waiting process. I didn't mind that at all, since that allowed me a few moments to myself without the blueberry irritant hanging over my head, but I was certainly surprised by who he brought back with him once he _did_ return.

Bazett Fraga McRemitz had woken up, and despite the fact that she no longer possessed enough body parts to strictly qualify as a completely whole person, she seemed nonetheless all the more dangerous for it. Her limbs were wrapped with medical gauze, the cast on one hand misshapen in such a way that I was fairly certain she was missing at least a few fingers, while the other had been obliterated into a stump below the elbow, though most of it was hidden within a cast. There was another cast on her left leg and, judging by its placement, I suspected that at the very least her tibia was fractured, though the leg itself remained mostly intact. Lancer seemed content with staying by her side, the Eirish Servant supporting her weight, but while he seemed more concerned with his Master, I couldn't help but note McRemitz's stare was pointed straight at me.

The gauze around the right side of her face remained, though there weren't enough bandages and such to completely cover the burn marks peeking out from the edge. Her sole remaining eye, to her credit, betrayed none of the pain or terror that her new condition would have likely inspired in anyone else, instead revealing only a core of steel that I couldn't help but respect. Injuries like those would have rendered some of the bravest men I'd ever known incapable of dragging themselves out of bed without pissing themselves to tears, and that was with enough anesthetics to dull their mind into a soft, witless, haze. Judging by the way McRemitz stared at me, the calculation and intellect still present behind the shroud of pain, I rather doubted the woman was taking the recommended number of painkillers necessary to be functional. Whether that was a function of a magi skill I wasn't entirely aware of, or sheer bloody stubbornness, I couldn't quite tell. Nonetheless, whatever McRemitz was here for could wait, and I hoped that whatever questions she'd have for me would be answered by me going through the debrief with the Tresillo.

I wasn't so droll as to have them all seated on little aluminum chairs, all nice and proper like some alcoholic support group. Neither could I expect…shall we say, military irregulars, to stand at attention like I was used to with the 203rd. As such, the group was arrayed in a loose circle around the conference table, squad leaders and several of their right hands seated on padded seats while the remainder were given those aforementioned aluminum chairs on a secondary circle around the table. I was quietly irritated at the unprofessional nature of such a setting but said nothing to rock the boat; while I'd initially forced the mercenaries into a more formal military formation upon the start of our collaboration, the key was to integrate myself among their ranks and breed a certain degree of familiarity, not alienate them for no good reason.

I allowed my thoughts to settle, to arrange them all in order and into a viable plan of attack. A few moments after, I figured it was time.

"It's time." I begin, taping the desk at the head of the table. Appealingly, the mercenaries more or less dropped whatever it was they were up to, giving me my full attention as a twitch of my will caused a holographic projection to appear above us all. In this case, it was something of a satellite view over Fuyuki International Airport, the site of my first real operation with the Tresillo.

"Alright then, we'll be doing this in turns." I say, pointing to Laurent, who blinked owlishly before nodding with some degree of expectation. "First, we'll go over the results of the operation starting on 18:00 of yesterday, in regards to the operation at the airport. We'll start with a review of Ghost Team's preparatory efforts on tailing the target, code named Phantom. After that, we will discuss Sweeper and Cutter's joint efforts to identify and preemptively remove any of the protective measures the Einzbern group would have prepared for their agent beforehand. Finally, due to the fact the operation was aborted before Rodriguez could move in to secure the target, we will be discussing Lanza's pre-op details as well as any difficulties or notes they may have had for us."

I paused looking around the room. "Before we get into it, are there any questions before we are to proceed?"

There was an awkward pause, just long enough for me to turn my attention fully into the nitty-gritty mechanics of our debrief, when a voice called out to my left. I turned to the side, watching a giant of a man lean forward towards the desk, dull green eyes glancing to and fro around him towards his comrades, before they switched back to me.

"A few questions, Miss Sioux." He noted respectfully enough, and I turned my full attention towards him. In a way, Captain Rodriguez reminded me of a more gregarious, somewhat more irresponsible, Weiss. That was fair enough I suppose, considering that as much as leadership of the Tresillo was divided between the squad leaders, Rodriguez had been considered something of the de facto head of the group. Such a position brought with it a certain degree of responsibility that was nonetheless tempered by its diffusion among the other squad members, a phenomenon caused by the pseudo egalitarian structure of the company itself. He certainly had an irresponsible side, as I vividly recall the man collecting bets on whether I'd cave Lancer's skull in the duel or not, but nonetheless was tempered by a general likability and respect by the rest of Tresillo. That was only logical, a military man might be able to get away with his subordinates hating and fearing him, but a similar setup imposed upon the Tresillo, ostensibly a civilian company, would merely result in mass resignations. What was one to do then, order them to build non-existent latrines?

He seemed to take my silence as acquiescence, and carried onward. "Now, me and the boys have been talking, Miss Sioux. We understand that the boss left you in charge and all that, which was odd and all at the beginning but we got used to it, not that we especially doubted your leadership or strategies-"

"Hmm hmm?" I vocalized, which seemed to force the man into a pause. He continued again, his voice more cautious now.

"But as I understand it, we were only here to serve as security and general defense." He said finally. "The things you've been having us do, the….things we've been privy to as the operations have been going forward, it's obvious that we're no longer here purely for defense. While the stipulation of our contracts are wide enough to cover these abnormalities-"

" _Told_ you we should have read the fine print." A voice mumbled amongst the crowd, though I couldn't verify who it was, owing to the scattered laughter that followed from the rest of the mercenaries. Rodriguez rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Fine. But the point being is that we'd really rather have some clue on what it is we're up against. We've seen the fight with the guy with the swords, reviewed Isabel's recordings of that situation, and if we'd run into that situation blind he would have gutted us all like fuckin' children."

Laurent spoke up, and I looked over to the right-hand side of the table. He was seated mid-way on the conference table, his team to the right of Isabel's. "Not to mention that duel you had with the guy in blue. The things both of you were doing-, I'm sorry Miss Sioux, but if I'd seen a record of that fight I would have called bullshit to half the things you were doing, never mind whatever it was the guy with the pike was doing."

A few eyes turned to Lancer, who merely waved with all the air and energy of a prize-winning Labrador. McRemitz quirked her brow at her Servant but contributed nothing to the discussion, merely settling down to watch me with calm eyes. Rodriguez nodded.

"Yeah, that was…to excuse my language, completely fucked." The Captain admitted. "Considering all this, I hope you understand that we need to know the extent of what we're dealing with here. If that girl of yours, our first target, suddenly started tearing into our squad with a fucking parasol then we need to know."

There were murmurs of agreement among the mercenaries, and my eyes scanned the crowd, searching for several faces. Laurent seemed in general agreement with the consensus, though his attention was focused elsewhere, the light of his holographic projection significantly more subdued as he scanned it for something I couldn't see. Fang seemed much more somber than the rest, leaning back into her seat, her and her squad positioned to the left of Rodriguez's own, dark eyes watching the proceedings with care. Isabel, perhaps alone amongst the mercenaries, seemed the least interested to be part of this conversation, though that in and of itself wasn't exactly surprising. She already knew the relevant details after all, though I don't think her own aloofness on the topic would win her any favors. Mercenary bands like these were hyper aware of any change in tone or mood amongst their members, and I imagine that if she failed to maintain a suitably homologous persona with the rest of her peer group that she'd be increasingly isolated as a result.

Nonetheless, the point was made. I raised my hand, the Tresillo quieting down as I did, which gave me some room to think.

What they were asking for wasn't exactly unreasonable. If I was in Rodriguez's place, I would have definitely done the same. Working with the limited amount of information they were currently privy to was untenable. If I told them to retreat and leave the field upon an enemy Servant's entrance into a fight, they had to know the basis of my decision making, had to know that I wasn't just arbitrarily picking out random choices without rhyme or reason. If they didn't, then even though I made the correct decision at the time, I would nonetheless alienate my forces and breed discontent, an unacceptable turn of events regardless of the reason. Worse, their distrust of me could lead to insubordination on the field, idiocy that could get themselves or those around them killed. Thankfully, I knew this was coming in one form or another, so I wasn't entirely unprepared.

"That's fair." I noted, allowing my hand to fall to my sides as Rodriguez gave a sigh of relief. "While the rest of your compatriots in Van Dyke International and the US Group are involved with other directives relevant to Mr. Galliasta's interests, we are on a similar directive expressed along a far more offensive doctrine."

"Mr. Galliasta wishes for the elimination of certain rivals within his field of expertise, a state of affairs that those aforementioned rivals are also aware of." I began. "While it was hopeful that this situation could be resolved amicably, our employer presumes that such a course of events would be, while not necessarily an impossible course of events, most definitely highly improbable. Thus, I was hired with the intent to neutralize these targets before they can do the same to us, and I deliberated that of the mercenary groups within Galliasta's employ you lot seem the most promising."

If there was anything decades in politics had taught me, it was the ability to say the absolute minimum amount of information while pandering to the egos of those listening. Nothing I'd said so far was necessarily wrong, only true within a somewhat stretched understanding of the given data sets. It was the subsequent information I was about to say that would be composed of out and out lies, and as such I had to be more careful.

"From last night's event, it is clear that the opposition has hired outside agents, which would be the man with swords from last night." My hand gestured towards Lancer and his Master, the former watching amusement, the latter with her brow raised. "As such, we've come to an agreement with other persons of interest so as to eliminate these threats. We are likely going to meet multiple such agents, and in such a situation we would require all of you to focus on secondary objectives while we engage them, or vacate the immediate battlegrounds entirely if we are incapable of giving you further orders."

I leaned back for a moment, satisfied as the seed was planted. I noted the gaze of some of the mercenaries stray from mine, looking over towards Isabel, who merely dug into her seat at the attention.

The nature of secrets and truth was such that while everyone would believe a probable lie, no one would be willing to believe an improbable truth. Even assuming that I was given leave by my Master to explain to the Tresillo the truth of the world, a non-zero possibility considering that Galliasta's previous explanations had hinted that other mages were aware of the activities of magi, the odds were that they weren't likely to believe it. Most likely, they would consider it a lie or a fabrication, and the amount of effort needed to convince them of the truth of such things likely wasn't worth it.

In such a situation, better to give them information that would be far easier for them to swallow. The idea of super mages wasn't exactly foreign to them, the idea of conflicts and brutal power plays hidden behind the polite facade of society would _definitely_ not be foreign to them, considering their line of work. However, telling those lies directly would open me up to too much scrutiny, in that they could simply refute or disbelieve the gist of my argument. Such a situation could quickly grow untenable, regardless of whatever else, I required their trust if I was to maintain their assistance in this war. Forcing myself into a situation where they either _have_ to believe me or lose trust in me. That simply wasn't acceptable.

But if I could construct a situation where the overall lie was composed of two different bits of information, from two different sources, then they would be that much more invested in the truth. With me admitting that I and several other people involved in this war had been hired for the express purpose of combat, and the information I'd instructed Isabel to leak to the others about some of the enemies we face possibly being Jiuzhounese super mages, the trap was set. They could recall that information on their own, digest it, and come to the conclusion I wanted without actually saying so out loud. A conclusion that they themselves came to would mean that they would be much less likely to disbelieve it. Human beings were fatally self-centered, it was the rare individual to be capable of separating their egos from their ideas, and if they were prompted towards a certain idea but were allowed to make the final leap towards reaching it, they were all the more likely to clamp onto it like a starving mutt to a gnarled bone.

I could see the idea taking root easily enough, with some of them glancing towards each other with knowing looks. The additional upside to all this was that they were all smart enough not to be so mad as to _ask_ any of us whether we were really super mages of some sort, that was just far too suicidal for any of them to even consider. The implication of what we were was enough, and should be sufficient to silence them on the matter for the foreseeable future.

Rodriguez frowned, gears turning in his head just like everyone else. All I'd need to do was softly guide them to the proper conclusion and everything would be just fine-

"Excuse me, Ma'am." Another voice called out, and I turned my attention to Laurent, his eyes curious and piercing. "If I may add to the Captain's clarification of the current situation, I have my own question I'd like to ask."

I blinked. "Very well. Go on then, Lieutenant."

He seemed nervous, at the very least he was perspiring slightly, but nonetheless seemed determined to march on. I was rather perplexed at the man's nervousness, at least until he opened his mouth. "Ma'am, what is the connection between you and the late Kaiserin?"

I blinked again, even as I idly noted that some of the mercenaries acted with a degree of shock and alarm at Laurent's words. Nonetheless I ignored them, gracing Laurent with a considering gaze. "Well, who isn't a fan of the Chancellor in this day and age." I smile. "Nonetheless, back to Rodriguez's point-"

But it seemed that it was too late. Now that the question had been asked, a floodgate seemed to have burst among the Tresillo, murmurs and questions flooding the forum as suspicion that had been buried by common sense and politeness now erupted into the surface. Laurent continued, his eyes filled with the kind of determination possessed when one had gone too far to back out now. "The resemblance between you and the Kaiserin is uncanny, ma'am. I've been reviewing footage you see, and you could pass for her daughter."

The murmurs only increased, and I smiled tightly. "Well as the public record shows, Degurechaff never bore any children. Now, as I was saying-"

But it seemed that I'd lost him now, Laurent distractedly staring at his computation device, eyes rushing through a holographic panel with an almost manic fervor. I frowned in confusion at what exactly he was up to, and with a thought I gained access to his gear, allowing me awareness of what exactly he was doing, moments before it was too late to do anything about it. My eyes widened imperceptibly as the table's holographic panel projected a miniaturized replica of myself high above us all.

" _-ciples of Germania follow the precepts of Self-Determination, Reason and Equal Opportunity for all."_ The treacherous, much younger, version of my past self said. Spectral eyes made a sweeping gesture across the crowd, and I could only breathe a sigh of relief that the recording was old enough that one couldn't quite make out the finer details. _"While it was never the intent of the State that Malagacy be considered as some colony or protectorate, for it to be considered as somehow a lesser partner among a league of equals, I have since tried my best to rectify that mistake. With referendum vote cast last July, it has become clear that the People of Malagacy had spoken and exercised the collective Self-Determination of an entire Nation."_

The spectral version of me smiled, and while others have since ascribed that smile a variety of emotions, thoughts and feelings, I knew damned well that I was basically me grinning through the pain at this point. _"Germania would thus like to welcome Malagacy as the eighteenth member of OZEV-"_

The feed cut off then, leaving my figure frozen in space for all to see. From afar, I could see McRemitz growing more and more confused at the ensuing chaos, even as Lancer seemed to be devolving into a quivering, amused, wreck. They were the least of my concerns however, as the addition of video and audio proof of the similarity to myself seemed to have loosened a flood of conspiracy and idiotic talking points to overwhelm the debriefing.

"You know, wasn't there that rumor about some people making a cloning breakthrough? Some firm out from Leipsic?"

"Nah, must be hot air and crap. Why would Germania send a super clone to Fuyuki of all damned places?"

"Maybe it's because of Jiuzhou? You've heard that new leader of theirs and all the anti-Akitsushima crap he's been spewing."

"Then OZEV would push for economic sanctions or something, they wouldn't send a fucking kill squad-"

" _Degurechaff_ wouldn't have sent a fucking kill squad. God knows what they'd do now-"

Laurent coughed, hands outward, seemingly in an attempt to control the chaos he'd unleashed. "Even with just a casual glance ma'am, it seems abundantly clear that you have a striking similarity with the late Kaiserin. Speaking mannerism, physical appearance, gestures, posture, it's almost uncanny."

A voice from the crowd spoke up, a man from Rodriguez's squad that I couldn't quite recall the name of, and for a moment I hoped that he was to be the voice of reason. Unfortunately, it was not to be. "Oh come on, Anton! Of all her speeches you pick _that_ one? Here, let's do the Argent one."

His computation device whirred into life, and another figure of myself joined the last. I was much older here, wrinkles visible upon my face, my blonde haired turned silver as I wore a predominantly white outfit, a long white coat going down nearly to my ankles. This time, the recording was recent and modern enough for fine details to emerge, and the resemblance was indeed, uncannily similar. Sapphire eyes took the scene at large, observing an unseen crowd before she spoke.

" _The necessities of statecraft require an eye to the future that may not necessarily result in immediate gains."_ She said, eyes severe and uncompromising. _"It is why environmental protections set forth decades ago had defeated an impending climate disaster before it ever materialized. It is why the scaling back of fossil fuels in favor of alternative energies has resulted in Photovoltaic plants powering over thirty four percent of Germanian homes. It is why the billions invested into weather controlling solutions has resulted in the ability to influence the weather of an entire subcontinent, to the benefit of both our agricultural and energy sectors."_

" _These projects were not easy to commit to at the beginning, but they were composed of a multitude of small, but gradually increasing, steps that made seemingly impossible dreams that much closer to reality. These steps were not based upon the irrationality of tribalism and nationalism, but with a love and vision dedicated towards all mankind. With the launch of the 'Argent' and its sister ships, we make another step towards ending mankind's reliance upon earth-bound resources and the inherent scarcity they impose upon our growth, and another step towards becoming a truly interplanetary civilization-"_

There were other words to my speech, but it seemed that the Tresillo weren't quite paying attention anymore. It seemed clear enough that this debate over who and what I am had been going on in the shadows for quite some time, and now that Laurent had gone so far as to put it out in the open while in my presence all bets were off.

My eyes flickered over to Laurent, who now seemed thoroughly lost at the chaos he'd unleashed, his gaze flickering over from companion to companion until it finally rested upon me, whereupon he froze in place. Rodriguez was giving Laurent the stink eye, a look of such immeasurable anger and frustration that for a moment I was almost compelled to feel pity for him. Isabel was thoroughly concerned now, her posture upright upon her chair, seemingly ready to take flight at any moment. Fang, to her credit, was enforcing some degree of discipline among her men, but even her eyes were plastered onto mine, some emotion buried deep beneath dark eyes that I found impossible to parse.

Nonetheless, the circus had gone on for long enough. I raised my hand, focusing my will so I would not cause unnecessary amounts of damage, and snapped my fingers. The lights flickered, drowning us in shadow as the Tresillo's computation devices rebooted themselves all at once, the sudden darkness silencing the ongoing argument for a single, brilliant, moment. Seconds later the lights returned, as did vision for the rest of the mercenaries, who now looked around and about cautiously, before turning their gazes to me with no small amount of concern.

"It is certainly interesting to see that when not involved in the course of their own duties, the Tresillo are rather imaginative, gossiping, hens that enjoy their daily dose of conspiracy and amateur guesswork." I note, my smile casual and easy, though the sight of it seemed to strike a chord of fear amongst the men and women arrayed around me. I clasped my hands together, settling them upon the table, which only seemed to concern them even further. "That is my own failing, unfortunately. I had presumed that for the Tresillo to realize its concurrent objectives in accomplishing both the responsibilities entrusted upon them by Mr. Galliasta as well as the objectives I demanded, that it would be best to allow you all some time to rest and plan out your approach accordingly. I had presumed that all of you would have at least the minimum level of maturity to sit quietly at this table instead of out at the back, where the incompetents and children may play without a worry in the world."

"Ma'am I-" Laurent began speaking, only to be slapped upside the head by Isabel, a degree of panic in her eyes that I gave no comment to as I continued.

"Alas, idle hands are the devil's playground, and my failure to recognize this is something I deeply regret and I shall rectify this mistake post-haste."

They were murmuring apologies now, Rodrigues giving Laurent a death glare even as the lieutenant's gaze was pinned directly upon the ground. I continued. "As such, there shall be some changes around here. A few exercises, nothing too severe, but enough that the next time we meet I would no longer be speaking with overgrown children in mage uniforms but the professionals that Mr. Galliasta assured me you all were."

Rodriguez spoke up, a foolishly suicidal move, but one I could respect I suppose. "I can prepare a list of men available for any duties you'd expect for today ma'-"

"Ah, ah." I tutted, and the big man flinched. "Did you not hear the Chancellor's speech? What we do, we do for all mankind. Tribalism and other such irrational impulses must be buried in the twentieth century where they belong. There is no 'Us' and 'Them'. Only 'Us'. I will have no need for the Tresillo today, not when you'll all be too occupied on other, more important, matters."

This time, there was no resistance. I gave no additional punishment to Laurent beyond the temporary confiscation of his computation device. His own comrades would administer whatever particular punishment they saw fit.

* * *

"You know, Caster, I have to admit. I assumed that the high point of my day was our little spar earlier, and that nothing today was going to top it." Lancer commented, humor evident in his tone as he made a token attempt to not laugh. "But really, you've just been full of surprises."

"I'm glad I can be of some service to you, Lancer." I smiled acidly towards the man, who merely smiled cheerily back, impervious to my ill will. "Perhaps you'd like to join the men in their exercises? They should still only be working on their first task: thirty rotations up and down the building might not seem a lot, but with how tall the Tower is I expect them to take a while to do so without their magic."

"Hmm. And how many floors is the Tower again?"

"Fifty. Give or take, I couldn't quite recall."

Lancer cackled in laughter, the man following me into one of the many side rooms available on this floor, the Servant supporting McRemitz as she ambled in after me. The room was fairly sparse as far as accommodations and such went, something of a smaller version of the conference room I'd just held the Tresillo in, but that seemed suitable enough for our purposes. I moved to take one of the nearby seats as Lancer helped McRemitz into one opposite me, before taking a few steps away and leaning on a wall, that same amused smirk on his face.

"I had doubts over Lancer's assessment that you were not the Witch of Betrayal, but considering that performance earlier I can't help but believe that he's probably right." McRemitz shrugged.

"Is that so?" I asked curiously. "I must admit to being somewhat surprised. If the agreed upon deal was you with Cu Chulainn and Galliasta with Medea of Colchis, I imagine such a team would be nearly unbeatable. Would you happen to know why he changed his mind?"

McRemitz bristled for a moment, though I didn't quite understand why, before she relaxed once more. "I don't know. I'll be sure to ask him that next time I meet him."

An uneasy silence fell between the three of us. Well, between me and McRemitz in any case. Lancer seemed to be enjoying himself, still high off the incident with the Tresillo, and uncaring of the discomfort between his Master and me. After a few moments, I eventually speak up again.

"Is there anything I could do for you?" I ask kindly. "I'm not privy on what, exactly, the extent of your injuries are but I imagine that they are rather severe. If you'll forgive me, I'm somewhat alarmed that you're even on your feet at the moment; I've seen lesser men drop dead to injuries half as severe as yours."

She smiled grimly. "I suppose I have a hardy constitution then. But yes, you're right, the sooner we get this out of the way the better off we'll both be Chancellor Degurechaff."

A pause, before her singular eyes turn to meet mine, a cold calculation present. "Did you have something to do with my injuries?"

I blinked. "Pardon?"

McRemitz leaned back, blinking languidly like a crocodile lying in wait. "According to reports I've gleaned from your mercenaries, you make extensive use of modern weaponry, explosives, guns and the like, an observation verified by Lancer himself during his duel with you. You have a notable ability to coordinate multiple teams of agents in concurrent operations across an urban environment, as well as the historical ruthlessness to employ them in whatever way you deem fit."

I blinked again. "Well, I wouldn't know anything about historical ruthlessness per se, but I can promise you that I had no interest in causing you any harm Miss McRemitz."

"You need not have intended any harm on me, Chancellor." The woman responds. "You need not have set the trap to hurt me, you only needed to have set up the trap. We've yet to actually meet at the time, and any preparations you'd have made to turn the Ryuudou leyline into a walking death trap is consistent with your _modus operandi_. Additionally, we found this upon the temple itself."

Her uninjured hand dug into a pocket, pulling out a handkerchief that looked vaguely familiar. She turned it around, revealing a crude drawing painted in blood, which sparked something in my memory.

"Oh, that's mine." I note at the broken familiar, before frowning. "I was wondering what had happened to it. You destroyed it?"

Lancer spoke up now. "We found it hanging around the temple, not too long before we found every monk in there butchered. Adding those up together, my Master believes that you were involved in everything that occurred in that temple, monks and traps both."

The other Servant leaned closer, observing the handkerchief once more before frowning. He looked at me, then back to the piece of cloth, then back to me. "Wait, are you Germania-chan?"

"What's a Germania-chan?" I asked, confused. "But this is mine yes. I have no idea what exactly happened on that damned mountain, and I've been rather too busy to give it any significant thought. I _did_ visit the temple earlier that day, but I certainly didn't butcher every monk within the vicinity."

"Oh?" the Master asked, leaning towards me once more in interest. "And were you the one who set up the traps?"

I suppressed a look of frustration. I understood that the woman was likely out for blood considering the injuries induced unto her, but honestly all this suspicion was unnecessary. If I wanted her dead she'd already be dead. "That, I can't confirm. I wanted to do a general sweep of the city before I delved into any of its seedier underbellies, and while I know about the tunnel you guys probably took, I didn't explore it sufficiently to determine whether it was trapped or not. The murders definitely happened _after_ I left though."

"And how would you have known that?"

"I spoke to one of them. Young, a kid really. If you want, you can follow up with the survivors of the attack, I know that he's one of the ones to have been hospitalized, it's just that I've not had the opportunity to follow up on that."

McRemitz quieted down at that, looking thoughtful, which I considered a victory all on its own. I pressed forward. "Believe me when I say that I had nothing to do with your injuries. My Master and I stand with you against whoever did this to you, and you will of course have our support against this foe when we hunt them down."

I was completely honest of course, but that wasn't to say that my offer was devoid of self-interest. So far as I could tell, the other Masters of the war were largely inexperienced. Emiya seemed intent in trying to figure out a way for us all to co-exist, Tohsaka's assets had been co-opted by the Church without her full knowledge while Einzbern- well. Einzbern seemed like a frighteningly vicious little girl, but there was a degree of innocence to that which brought to mind something more similar to a wounded animal. Dangerous if cornered, but if you don't give her reason to, will generally leave you alone.

Whoever had nearly killed McRemitz at the temple was of a different breed. Ruthless, practical and willing to engage with and eliminate the opposition without direct confrontation. It was almost jarringly different from the personality matrices of every other Master I'd identified, and the fact that this Master remained unidentified and thoroughly hidden in the shadows disturbed me greatly.

Even if McRemitz didn't trust me, we would both gain greatly by seeing this hidden Master dead. Doubtlessly she knew that too, otherwise she wouldn't have confronted me so recklessly.

"Very well." McRemitz nodded, standing suddenly, with Lancer moving in to assist her. "Is there anything else I should know?"

I paused, considering her question for a moment. _Was_ there anything she needed to know? There was the meeting I'd be having with Tohsaka and Einzbern, but I wasn't about to tell her that. Instead I shrugged.

"Nothing pressing for the moment. I would suggest you take the moment to rest for now, Miss McRemitz." I say, not unkindly. "The war is still calm for now, and it would be better to conserve your energy before the fighting begins."

She holds my gaze for a moment longer, seemingly searching for something. Whatever it was she was searching for, she seemed not to find it, pulling away from me with an irritated grunt, limping out of the room with a dutiful Lancer in tow.

I waited a few moments longer, until at least McRemitz was out of sight, before leaning back into my seat with a groan. What a terrible morning. I really was a bit of an idiot for picking a fight with Lancer; it was hours away from the meeting with Tohsaka and I was _already_ feeling wrung out and beaten down. I shuddered to imagine the state of me by the end of the day. I needed a break.

For a moment I paused, my eyes sliding towards the projector. My hand dipped into one of the many pockets within my flight suit, pulling out the computation device I'd confiscated from Laurent. A minute of tinkering had me successfully connect the device to the holographic projector, returning it to where the recording had previously stopped.

" _-and the second nation within the African continent to join this coalition of man."_ My younger self continued, the cheers and applause from a lifetime ago echoing across the room. _"It is my hope that this referendum would prove to the Empires of Albion and Magna Rumeli that colonialism as an institution-"_

I zoned out my speech, my attention to the small group behind me. Holographic projections had a naturally reduced quality compared to that of a regular screen, but even as reduced as it was, I think it would be impossible for me to not recognize the woman so close to my side. I spent the next while staring at the projection, watching her smile and clap on my behalf, until the speech was finally over and we begin to walk away side by side, hands clasped together just outside of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited on 9/14/2020 - Adjusted Photovoltaic energy values from seventy four to thirty four percent for the civilian sector


	22. 3.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lunch date with the Tohsaka Master goes about as well as one could expect.

**3.2**

With the Tresillo being punished for the rest of the day, I was unlikely to have access to any of their resources for today’s operations. That in and of itself wasn’t too significant, the mercenaries were always more beneficial as an intelligence gathering arm for me than as, say, a means for me to beat Saber into submission. Though if what Isabel’s summarized notes from the events of last night were any indication, they were doing a rather excellent job of it considering the challenges they faced. They hadn’t managed to set up a full surveillance net over Miyama Town as of yet, Archer’s interference had ensured that total surveillance over the area wouldn’t be available for some time, but nearly all strategically relevant locations had been identified despite that so I allowed myself to be content with that. Any subsequent operation within the district would be done with the benefit of a greater degree of information control than our previous escapades, a fortuitous turn of events and one that I gave Isabel’s team full credit for accomplishing.

It was thus unfortunate that Tohsaka had chosen for our meeting to occur, not within the Miyama district, but the Shinto area on the other side of the city. The Hyatt Hotel, more specifically, which was only a few blocks away from Galliasta’s Tower. Disconcerting as the girl’s choice of locale may be, it did allow me some degree of insight towards Tohsaka’s psychology.

When put into a negotiating position, both parties would naturally gravitate towards a location favorable to themselves and detrimental in some way towards the opposition. In due course, a negotiation between equal partners would usually result in the chosen destination being neutral to both, where no notable advantage existed between either party. That the Shinto area was suggested as the neutral zone indicated that she still believed the area to fall under her sphere of influence more than mine or simply held a disposition which was interested in me _believing_ that the Shinto area was where she resided.

I doubted that though, not that she’d try to obscure her location in such a way, but that she actually lived there in the first place. It had been a bit embarrassing, but over the course of the morning I’d realized that I’d met the Tohsaka magus before, in a mansion noticeably close by to one of Fuyuki’s leylines. Putting aside for the moment the embarrassment and potential psychological impact my appearance on that day had on Tohsaka, it meant that her sphere of influence was directly within the Miyama district. There was the possibility that she had merely been visiting a friend or relative of course, but the speed with which Archer responded to Isabel’s team nixed that possibility in the bud. A Servant wouldn’t have responded that quickly to a foreign intrusion when that intrusion occurred on the other side of the city of where they supposedly lived after all.

Which begged the question of why exactly she chose the Hyatt Hotel as her particular meeting place. Did Tohsaka somehow know where I was operating from? It shouldn’t be possible, I’d only met with her in the Miyama district, and unless she’d picked something up from the long, long, walk to the Church, she shouldn’t have had an inkling towards where my base of operations was. There was a strong possibility that the Priest had told her, I already knew Kotomine wasn’t operating as a neutral party, but the rage and irritation the girl had for the man was genuine. I couldn’t imagine her being that upset at the Priest if he’d given her such useful information, not unless she was a spectacularly good liar, in which case I wouldn’t know if she was anyway.

Regardless, what _was_ verifiable was that Tohsaka had willfully arranged for a meeting on the entire opposite end of the city, far and away from any possible defenses situated within her mansion. Such a situation practically begged for an assassination attempt on the girl, and if the purpose of my meeting was not to verify her suitability as a potential Master I might very well have done so. In that, at least, lay an advantage. Tohsaka was likely trying to determine some way to gauge my reliability, and choosing not to jump at such an obvious bait may very well convince her that I _was_ trustworthy.

Whether that spoke to some deeply embedded arrogance that she could survive baiting a potentially hostile Servant, or that she possessed the skill and wherewithal necessary to survive an assassination attempt, was difficult to determine with the information given. Despite that uncertainty, I doubted that Archer would be feeling so laissez faire about his Master’s safety after the close call she’d experienced last night. The odds of neutralizing her today was likely to be low, if for no other reason than that surely, they’d have _something_ in place should I try to kill her.

I glance towards my watch, another design that was small, fashionable and possessed of a parallel evolution in design philosophy that ensured it was only tangentially aware of the concept of practicality. Nonetheless, its tiny little hands told me that it was about twenty minutes before noon, so at the very least I wouldn’t be late. Tohsaka had not gone so far as to elaborate on a specific location within the hotel for us to meet, so I reasoned that waiting by the lobby of the main entrance was a fair enough area to wait for her.

Cognizant of the fact that I was unwilling to walk out into the Akinese public wearing what I was beginning to delightfully identify in my head as my Servant uniform, I’d once again asked Galliasta’s concubines for their help. Perhaps it was the fact that so much had happened since I last spoke with them that my previous experience with the girls had somehow slipped my mind, but the gleam in their eyes and the exuberance with which they set about dolling me up ensured that I would not make such a pedestrian mistake anytime soon. Worse yet, I’d decided to be somewhat honest with the girls, telling them that I was planning on meeting someone for lunch and dinner. _That_ did not make things any easier for myself, and after much fussing and questions and _details_ about who I was meeting with, I now had two outfits; one for my lunch meeting and the other for dinner.

This time, they’d opted not to put me in that pastel monstrosity from before, which I was thankful for, though once they pulled out some of the racier elements they’d intended to stuff me into I had to put my foot down. In the bloody aftermath of that battle of wills, I was now clothed in a one piece, long sleeved, black dress that closed itself around my neck with some degree of discomfort. The dress’s design was visually interesting, starting at a pitch-black hue around my shoulders and sleeves, until one’s gaze went down and reached a series of geometric designs in grey which continued all the way until the end of my skirt that ended around my knees. A belt tied it all together, literally, setting itself upon my waist as a pair of knee-high boots complete the ensemble.

All told, even I could concede that Galliasta’s concubines were remarkably eagle eyed in the many ways one can, in their words, ‘rock an outfit’. While I had to admit that I was somewhat getting used to my ‘uniform’, the clothing given to me by the Grail was less than appropriate for blending in with the crowd. While the dress that the concubines had prepared for me was eye-catching in an all-together different manner, it wouldn’t attract the kind of attention that so often precipitated smug Servants and battles to the death. Maybe if I was lucky, someone would simply consider me to be a rather well put together young woman instead of the mystical superweapon that I’d accidentally become somehow.

At the very corner of my senses, I felt the presence of another Heroic Spirit, perhaps a bit to the north and above me, which would roughly correlate to a position opposite the main entrance of the hotel, thus giving the Servant an eagle’s eye view of the hotel lobby. Beyond the typical trickle of anxiety that seeps into my system every time one of my kind showed itself, I wasn’t too concerned; the hint of oil and steel and ash I was getting off this one told me that it was Tohsaka’s Archer, which meant his Master was likely already on her way. After all, a Servant with such potent long-range capabilities wouldn’t need to announce his presence like that unless he wanted to, so I think it was safe to assume that I would be met by his Master and not a saturation bombardment of the surrounding area.

A few minutes later my hunch was proved right, and Rin Tohsaka entered the scene. From a completely objective analysis of her clothing vis a vis her body, she seemed aesthetically pleasing, with a crimson sweater thing and a black skirt that seemed scandalously short, though that was only vaguely ameliorated by her own thigh-highs. I suppose that, worn with a certain confidence, it would have granted her a certain degree of grace; as it was, her effort was completely undermined by the uncertain gaze she graced her surroundings with. That was to be expected I suppose, while I was no Assassin, I doubted that my ‘attempt’ at killing her would have done anything to set her at ease.

I rose from my seat, taking care to note that I was as presentable as could be expected of me, and approached her in the open. Soon enough she spotted me, which seemed to set her heart at ease, only for her anxiety to spike once more. Eyes barely keeping focus on me, her fingers travel-some and incapable of staying still. I gave her a soft smile as I finally reach her; as much as I’d have liked to jump into the meat of the matter, I suspected doing so now would be less than constructive.

“You look very nice.” I comment, causing her head to swivel so quickly and so abruptly I feared she might have snapped her own neck. Her eyes snapped reflexively to my own clothes, whereupon the embarrassment seemed too much to bear, as her gaze seemed to latch on to my clothes and away from my face. I nearly frowned, I didn’t overdress, did I?

“Yo-you look nice as well, Caster.” She eventually ground out, and my smile brightened. Not overdressed then, that was good. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long, I wanted to get here earlier but something came up and-“

I waved a hand to her, forestalling whatever else she wanted to say. “Don’t worry about it, really. I only just arrived.” I lied smoothly. “For a moment, I was wondering whether I should reveal myself honestly.”

She blinked at that, confused, so I clarified with a wry smile. “Well, it’s just that what with Archer hanging over us both, I wasn’t certain whether I’d be able to make it to you without getting peppered by half the blades in your Servant’s inventory.”

Tohsaka’s eyes widened at my words, her gaze taking me in, and it seemed that my comment struck her dumb for a moment. I suppose that was only fair, if I were a Master in this war, I wouldn’t have considered myself to be particularly inclined towards a positive mindset if an opposing Servant had so casually noted her security arrangements. At least not when such arrangements were so candidly mentioned aloud. Nonetheless, I waited a few moments until the girl had regained her ability to speak.

“We-I-Archer would never do that.” Rin eventually eeped out. “He’s just here to watch over us while we- while we talk.”

I gave her words some thought, before eventually frowning.

“That seems rather unlike him.” I pondered aloud. From my interactions with him and from what I’d seen of him in battle, he didn’t seem like the type to so meekly watch over his Master and a potential enemy, especially when the aforementioned enemy could so easily kill his Master at will. Perhaps if his Master was bait, and he had a weapon capable of killing me with minimal fuss, then perhaps I could see him holding his fire. He seemed, if nothing else, a delightfully logical sort. It was a shame I was aiming to replace him.

Her brow quirked at that, a curious look on her face. “Oh? And what makes you say that, Caster?”

A shrug. “Common sense really. A negotiation between Masters might be permissible because, being mortal, there is a certain assumption of equitability in terms of ability. A Magus might be superior to another, but at the very least they’d both be _Magi_. In a negotiation such as this- well, forgive me Miss Tohsaka, but I feel that your Servant would be well within his rights to be nervous for you.”

Tohsaka blinked at that, before rallying and giving me a considering look, the faint blush of her cheeks soon becoming the only hint of her earlier unease. “Ah. So, are you saying that I should be negotiating with Isabel, or that I should be worried for my safety when in your presence?”

I smiled. “Neither, we’re speaking in hypotheticals after all. I would not dare impugn a lady’s judgement upon who she would cavort with, neither would I imply that such a lady would be anything _but_ safe in my presence. I’m a woman of my word after all.”

It was a useful thing, to have had several decades of experience in fending off foreign dignitaries with far more experience in wordplay than a teenage girl. It was also useful to play into the reputation I’d built of being a creature of scrupulous duty and unbending honor, I’d worked damn hard at building that reputation after all.

She blinked at my words, taking a moment to digest them for a moment, before averting my gaze. Silence fell over us both as we considered one another, without the rigors of combat or potential for violence, less important details could be appreciated. We were roughly equivalent in height, though I noted rather pettily that she wasn’t even wearing heels for the occasion while I, in turn, had had been given boots that didn’t overtly increase my height. Digging through that pale mask she wore, I considered the strong possibility that the girl seemed rather nervous. That was only fair I suppose, betting one’s life on the existence of someone else’s ‘honor’ was not bound to be a particularly comfortable experience for anyone, nevermind doing so with a creature capable of snapping her neck faster than she could blink.

Nonetheless, the fact that she was here spoke to her bravery, and I didn’t find all that much pleasure in leaving her in such a state of unease. “Well, Miss Tohsaka-“

“Rin.” She replied quickly, which I frowned at before she clarified herself. “Rin. I’d prefer it if you called me Rin.”

I suppose that was fair enough. Negotiations between polities did not resemble negotiations between people in any meaningful way, and I suppose I’d lose nothing by allowing her this small concession. Nonetheless, some equivalency was a given in these sorts of things, and I allowed my amusement to shine through my eyes. “Very well. Rin it is then, but only if you’d call me Tanya as well.”

Her smile froze at that, for the briefest of moments, before she nodded. ‘Tanya it is, then. Have you eaten yet? I haven’t eaten yet. Do you still like Akinese? There’s an Akinese ramen shop on the third floor we could try, if you’d be willing to.”

I blinked at the sudden rush of words as I processed her question. How did she know I like Akinese? “Well, yes I suppose but-“

“Great.” The girl grinned, her hand making a sort of spasming motion before she paused, as though struggling with something internally. A few seconds later, whatever hesitation she may have had dissipated entirely as she grabbed me by the hand and led me deeper into the hotel.

I’d been in my share of hotels in my time. There was a period right after the war, when annual meetings between OZEV states were a given but when the infrastructure to support such meetings had yet to be established, that a variety of hotels had sprung up around Berun to service foreign dignitaries. Partly due to the fact that I didn’t want to be perceived as some distant Hegemon, as well as the fact that it was simply more expedient to stay in the same building as the dignitaries I’d been planning on talking to, I grew used to staying within those hotels, much to the frustration of my security detail. As such, I had the unique position of watching the hospitality industry mature as an institution, a position that became much more enjoyable after a few quiet suggestions had allowed those institutions to more quickly rid themselves of the rot and outdated policies that mired them in sluggish mediocrity. The experience repeated itself after Albion, Akitsushima, Germania, Magna Rumeli and the Unified States established the League of Nations, and I had to suffer through another round of inept hospitality service until the accord was signed and I could assign a diplomatic group to handle that forum without my immediate supervision.

Compared to those dark days at the Blisswood Pines, the Hyatt seemed considerably more pleasant in comparison. It seemed to deliberately ape Germanian design, though thankfully in its use of more modern technology and basic principles, not so much the, admittedly dry, nature of our architecture. Holographic panels showcasing the available restaurants, services and events peppered the air every few dozen feet or so, and I noted the luggage being carted off by waist high drones with more similarity to mobile garbage bins than the presumably state of the art machinery they actually were. I also couldn’t help but notice that the security for the Hyatt was considerably more adroit than what would be typical for a civilian institution, in that there seemed to be cameras scanning through every inch of the grounds. Tohsaka, that is to say, Rin, did not seem particularly bothered by this, and so we passed through the hotel in silence, her mood not particularly conducive for conversation.

Eventually however, the silence had to pass. Whether due to her inexperience with these kinds of negotiations or a desire to keep the conversation moving, by the time we finally seated ourselves in a restaurant that seemed more tourist trap than Ramen shop, its Rin that breaks the silence first.

“Is it all that you expected it’d be, to be back in the world again?”

I blinked, before glancing over to the girl. Her eyes seemed intent on the window outside, the hustle and bustle of the city below seemingly distracting her. It was an admirable effort, and if not for the fact that her eyes were focused on nothing at all down below, I might have even believed it a casual question. Nonetheless, I had no reason to answer dishonestly, so I didn’t.

“Honestly, it’s like I never left.” I responded dryly, as I took one of those warm little towels they gave us and began wiping my hands with it. “The sun still shines, people remain irrationally bound to rules that only make sense in their own heads, and powers refuse to cooperate with each other unless it is the absolute final option. It’s as though I never died in the first place.”

Rin blinked at that, drawn away from the window by my words, and she didn’t seem to know whether to frown or to laugh. I smiled slightly at her discomfort.

“I’m joking, at least only partly. I don’t recall having quite so much latitude with what I can do with my magic, and I certainly never knew anything about you Magi.” I frowned at that. “Disconcerting really, I feel like a lot of the small mysteries during my time in office are now revealed to be neither all that mysterious, nor all that small.”

“I’m not surprised.” She ventured cautiously, her hands following my example as she reached for the warm towel. “My Father always said that the Magus families were always very cautious in countries with your influence; the closer it was to Berun, the more dangerous it was to move around freely. I think he said once that, back in the eighties, a Magus in Berun would have about twenty minutes after using a spell before someone comes looking for them.”

“Well it’s the first time _I’m_ hearing about this.” I muttered in irritation, much to Rin’s amusement, as she tried to obscure her smile with a dainty hand. I knew I gave Elya a great deal of latitude when dealing with certain internal threats, but this was all a bit much wasn’t it? It was one thing to obscure that one operation with the communists all those years ago, but I feel rather put off that I was only hearing about the magical equivalent of the illuminati _after_ I died. “Though I suppose that would go some way of explaining why I never met most of your kind, if my security forces were so adroit in clearing out such incidents.”

Rin shrugged. “I doubted that your people on the ground would have even realized what Magi were if they even did manage to catch them. My Father said that the Clock Tower was _very_ particular about making sure that information about our world never reached the Mage population as a whole, and you in particular.”

I blinked. “And why was that?”

“Because my Father and his allies pushed for it.” She noted, with not a bit of pride. “Tohsaka Tokiomi was much more cognizant of what was happening outside the moonlit world than the rest of his compatriots. He saw the rise of the Magic of the Spheres as something to be studied and considered, but that it should _not_ be done while you were alive. I think he saw you as something of a threat, someone who could not be allowed even a foothold into our world. The Clock Tower generally agreed, though the vast majority of his suggestions were ignored; Magi kept going to Berun for example, even when my Father thought doing so was too dangerous.”

I blinked again. Vaguely, I supposed that I should be flattered at the regard some dead magus had in relation to me, even if it seemed almost pathologically paranoid of him to do so. Still, I wasn’t about to interrupt her, not only because this glimpse into a hidden world I never knew was actually somewhat fascinating, but because whatever anxiety that had previously kept her quiet seemed to be slowly eroding as she spoke. I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was due to the fact we were talking about things she was at least halfway knowledgeable about, or whether it was due to the pride she felt for her father, but I knew better than to interrupt her at this point.

“Well I know that Berun isn’t exactly the ghastliest place in the world.” I smiled, my tone obviously joking. “But I can’t imagine it to be so notable that mages flock to it as you described, not if it was supposedly so dangerous.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing to do with whether it’s ghastly or not. It’s that Berun was, and still very much is, the capital of the world. If anything of importance was to happen, it was assured that whispers of it would be heard in Berun before anywhere else. There were some that found that appealing, and a few others that didn’t, but thought to involve themselves in the city for fear of losing out against their rivals.”

Ah, well that did make sense then. That was game theory at its most basic, to maneuver oneself in the most advantageous position and simultaneously block your opposition from doing the same. I leaned in close. “But not your Father. He seemed a cautious man, at least from what you’ve described.”

The magus seemed about to respond, before freezing for a moment and averting her gaze. A moment later, one of the shop’s staff arrived, all smiles and gentle obedience, to take our order. I deferred to Rin’s choice, pork ramen with a variety of side dishes, and merely ordered the same thing she did. Her ears turned red at that, the waitress smiling indulgently at us for some wretched reason, until she received our orders and left.

The interruption had, irritatingly enough, cut into the tempo of our conversation. Rin had become silent again, eyes adrift somewhere else, and for a moment I considered what to say next.

“I never knew my Father.” I noted, and gratifyingly enough I’d instantly caught her attention. “I was an orphan after all, and though I never particularly tried to find out the truth of the matter, I was told that he was some member of the military that died for the glory of the Fatherland. Of course, that’s what they’d tell everyone then. Such institutions were meant to nurture the dregs of society into something worthwhile, and such a mindset embedded into a child would be fairly useful.”

I wasn’t lying per se, this was exactly the truth of my history; the history of this world anyway. In times long past, when I was but a simple functionary, my Father had been a dry yet completely acceptable member of Japanese society. The kind of man that would show up to his job, execute it with unremarkable efficacy, and repeat the process nigh infinitum until the day he died decades later. I doubted such information would be particularly useful in this case, either for greasing the wheels of this conversation or relatability, so I didn’t feel very badly about stretching the truth.

Rin perked up at that, and at the very least I was assuaged that my ‘Father’ in this reality was of considerably more use than the other one. “That sounds difficult.” She remarked, eyes set on me, and I shrugged.

“I suppose, though I was really rather used to it.” I smiled. “But considering the course of my life, I don’t think I would have changed it so much. I think that conflict has a way of bringing one’s character to the fore, not the miscellaneous rubbish and rot that we so often pick up and carry with us for far too long, but the real core of what one can be. It certainly wasn’t pleasant at the time, but even I had to admit that such conflict shaped me into the person I am today.”

My gaze shifted to her, and I noted that despite her earlier aloofness, she was now hanging on to my word. “Or like how this conflict is likely to shape you for years to come.”

She blinked at that, before realizing her posture and her attention was noted, and attempted to retreat to her shell of mildly interested aloofness. “I suppose you’re right, Caster-“

“Tanya.” I reminded her gently. She blushed.

“R-right.” She muttered, her attempt at aloofness falling flat on its face. “Tanya.”

I leaned back for a moment. Finally, at least we were getting somewhere. “Now, far be it from me to enjoy such pleasant company when offered to me, I imagine there was a reason that you invited me out here. I presume that it has something to do with the war, and while we are ostensibly on opposite sides of a seven way….I think an old acquaintance would have called it a clusterfuck, that does not mean we must be uncivilized to one another.”

Rin nodded suspiciously at that, as though cautious at where exactly I was going with this. I smiled. “As such, I’m glad that you reached out to me. Barring the unfortunate misunderstanding from last night, I would rather not fight you or Archer unless absolutely necessary.”

She seemed to blink at that, eyes narrowing and her gaze sharpening, and for a moment I consider whether it was a mistake to remind her that I could have nearly killed her last night. Was quite capable of doing so, if not for my whim. She placed her hands to her lap, seemingly settling something deep within her, before her eyes flickered back to me.

“Don’t presume to be so familiar with me, Tanya.” The girl spoke imperiously. “Of all the competitors, the Three Houses of Tohsaka, Matou and Einzbern are the clear frontrunners to win this war. It’s true that I reached out to you first, but that just means you should be honored to have been approached at all. I could have just as easily allied myself with Emiya and gone on to win the war without you.”

I blinked, taking in her words for a moment. That was true enough, she could have done so and I think I would have found myself rather hard-pressed to neutralize her bloc all that cleanly. At the very least it would have necessitated the use of Lancer, but I wasn’t about to let her know about that particular ace in the hole.

Nonetheless, the fact that she _didn’t_ reach out to Emiya, despite apparently having known him prior the war, told me that the possibility of such an alliance in that direction was more unlikely than it would initially appear. I was inclined to think of that uncertainty as a benefit: while I could theoretically operate in an alliance between Saber, Archer and myself, the mechanics of such a relationship would be much more complex than a simple alliance between the Tohsaka group and myself.

Nonetheless, there was no need to antagonize her, so I merely nodded. “True enough. Those three families have participated in this war for decades, and as such you three would doubtlessly be the most experienced in waging this kind of war. My own experience in waging war does not so readily apply in the kind of environment we find ourselves in, but I suppose that enough of it carries over that I believe I can make a few presumptions.”

Her eyes narrowed at that, but I didn’t stop to allow her space to think on my words for too long before I continued. “The primary insight that I could offer is that if any one of those three Houses were capable of overwhelming the other two and winning the war, it would have been done so a long time ago. Despite the fact that this conflict is not a continuous one, thus giving each Family time to prepare, and given the…four prior chances each Family has had to break through the stalemate, it has yet to happen. Which means that each group likely exists in a state of functional stability-.”

Understanding bloomed in her eyes, and she opened her mouth, only for me to continue over her.

“-which means that, as circumstances currently exist, neither you nor the Einzberns nor the Matous are currently capable of ending this war by yourselves.” I quirked my brow at her. “Certainly, all three of you would likely try, but repeating the same mistake with the assumption that things would magically change seems somewhat foolish don’t you think? If I were given to hypothesizing, I suspect that this is the reason for why the other four participants are here; to help tip the balance of power from one side or the other.”

My words seemed to have riled the girl up, and she nearly growled in response. “That is not at all the reason for the seven participants, _Tanya_.”

“Well yes, perhaps the original reason was due to some magical conundrum that needed solving.” I conceded easily enough, much to her apparent frustration. “But that hardly matters for any rational actor involved in the war. If a stalemate exists between the strongest factions involved in this war, it behooves one to make an alliance with one of those factions so as to increase their odds of success. As a representative of the Tohsaka, you have to realize this as well. It’s why even though you remarked that you could form an alliance with either myself or Emiya, you did not go so far as to say that you would win this war alone.”

I blinked sedately at the girl, who seemed perhaps three steps away from having a psychotic break and butchering everyone within the restaurant. Thankfully, I’d timed my approach well, and right before she could say anything more our orders arrived. The waitress seemed to note the sudden change in atmosphere, but wisely got out quickly before the aftereffects of our conversation could spill over to her.

The waitress had scarcely left earshot when Rin spoke again, eyes bright. “If that’s the case, Tanya, then it makes more sense for me to ally with the Einzberns or the Matou, wouldn’t it?”

I nodded, snapping my chopsticks in one smooth motion. “True. But if it was that simple, it would have happened by now, no? You three families, the Tohsakas, the Einzberns, the Matous-, all of you have been at this for far too long, with far too much effort and loss, to stop now. The logical thing would be for the three of you to have joined forces and wipe out the other four applicants in the war, that might even have happened in the first few wars honestly, but what would happen then? All three of you would be back to where you started, stuck in a three-way stalemate, except this time without any leverage with which to use to break it. If any of you were capable of talking out your problems, we wouldn’t all be in the fifth iteration of this war by now.”

Perhaps it was the heat from our orders creating some kind of illusory effect, but I could swear that there was actual steam blowing out of Rin’s head at this point. I ignored her, looking down at my order and muttering thanks before I dug in.

I did not believe I was wrong. Everything I’d described tracked with what I understood about the Holy Grail War, and explained the actions of both the Tohsaka and Einzbern so far. The latter had been arrogant and imperious and dismissive, but had very deliberately _not_ antagonized me to the point of outright hostility, presumably in case I needed to be reeled in to her side if necessary. The former had gone so far as to ensure a boy who knew nearly nothing about this was properly informed so as to potentially set up a possible ally, and when _that_ investment had failed to pan out, immediately went on to arrange a meeting with me to secure a potential alliance.

One could keep as many secrets as one wanted, but unspoken words meant nothing compared to one’s action, and when those actions were compared to the competitive framework of the Holy Grail War, it left few other alternatives.

Eventually, Rin spoke again, practically grinding out her words through her teeth. “Let’s say that you’re right, that what you’ve described is the reality of things as they are. What will you do now?”

She seemed expectant of an answer, so I chewed on my response, both figuratively and literally. After a few moments, I responded.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“You don’t _know_?” She hissed. “I thought you were the _Kaiserin_ , I presumed you’d have a plan thought out by now.”

“Well yes, I suppose I do, in a sense.” I shrugged, which seemed to mollify her. “Let’s say I have several plans, I’m merely…digesting, so to speak.”

My answer seemed only to incense her further, and I felt compelled to clarify my position lest she do something rash. “From what I understand, the most reasonable option from my perspective would be to ally with one of the three major families and leverage that position into a means with which to win the war.”

Left unspoken was the other plan, to collect a group consisting of the other three unaligned participants in the war and form a coalition to neutralize the Three Families. That, in and of itself, was likely to have both the most and the least complications- Lancer was already on board after all, but an alliance with those other three would include Saber, an opponent I had no real way of neutralizing effectively without going for her Master first. The fourth duo was a mystery, though considering their performance in the war so far, they were likely to remain in the shadows and watch from afar. Honestly, that was the most prudent thing to do, and if not for the circumstances I'd found myself, something I would have preferred doing as well.

I wasn’t sure about the efficacy of this path to be quite honest. I’d have to rely on the element of surprise, or risk the other three banding together in an effort to survive my coalition. Additionally, my strike against Einzbern, Matou and Tohsaka would have to be total; all three had to be knocked out of the war lest one survive and potentially split my coalition and turn them against me. Then, even in a situation wherein we succeed and all three are removed, those that remain would be incentivized to turn on the others at the first opportunity, which depending on the surviving members could easily lead to a no win scenario.

Not the most effective plan, but it was certainly on the table, and it was better than walking around the war _without_ a plan in the first place.

She leaned back, seemingly satisfied. “Well then, that settles things. If you’re inclined towards the most beneficial alliance with one of the Three Families, it would make the most sense for you to align yourself with me.”

Rin seemed quite pleased with herself for coming to that conclusion, a self-assured look on her face that quickly faded as it became clear that I hadn’t said anything to confirm or deny her assertion. Her eyes narrowed, her visage turning to irritation.

“What?”

Her tone may as well be chipped out of polar ice for all the warmth it possessed, and I gave an apologetic smile. “I would hate to displease you unnecessarily-“

“Far too late for that, I think.”

“But one cannot make an informed choice without, well, being informed.” I say, keeping a pleasant smile on my face. “I’m sure that the Tohsaka are powerful and wise, but surely you can’t expect anyone to come to a well-reasoned decision without being aware of all the facts first. It would be far more beneficial for me to possess all the facts, and thereafter, joining you with the assurance that I picked your side regardless of whatever else the rest had to offer me.”

Rin stared at me, her eyes narrowing, calculation in her eyes as she seemed to dwell on my words. I took the sudden reprieve as an excuse to continue my lunch, which seemed to further incense the girl even further. Nonetheless, she remained quiet until my bowl was finished and I sighed with contentment, whereupon she whirled on me with a concerning degree of aggression.

“Okay. Alright.” Rin muttered, her hands having long since left her lap and were now pressed against each other on the table. I think she was trying to replicate my hand gestures, only that she was too infuriated to really do so. “You want facts? You want information? Fine, okay. You want to know about the Einzberns? The Matou? Okay! I can work with that!”

I blinked, only for her to lean over, eyes narrowed. “I’m willing to trade you any and all information the Tohsaka would have on the Matou and the Einzberns. Entire generations worth of information on our ‘stalemate’, all for your perusal. How’s _that_ for ‘what I can offer you’?”

She seemed to wallow in silent victory after that, drunk on having apparently come to a worthwhile solution to…whatever problem she was trying to solve in her head, really.

Still, if her intent was to keep me within her orbit of influence, it was certainly an effective approach. It had been clear to me for a while now that Galliasta’s information on the Three Families were, for the most part, insufficient. What information he possessed had gone through multiple hands, multiple voices distorting the truth, and it was obvious that at least some of that information was suspect. The Einzbern had, after all, planted a lead with the intent to lure potential enemies into a pre-prepared killzone. If not for the Einzbern Master’s whim, I’d probably have had to fight my way out with a rabid Berserker on my heels, not exactly how I would have preferred to end the night.

Eventually I looked over to Rin, still crowing in pleasure, and coughed gently to grab her attention. When that failed to do so, I did it again, whereupon she jerked away from her reverie and turned to me.

“Okay, that’s more than acceptable to me.” I remarked, placing my eyes onto hers, noting her delighted expression. “What are your terms?”

She froze at that, and for a moment I imagined that a thousand thoughts seemed to stream into her head all at once as she considered her options. I waited patiently for her to decide on a course of action; far be it from me to pressure someone into a decision without allowing them to consider all the facts. It would just make me look hypocritical if I pressured her here really, even if clumsiness on her part would likely benefit me.

“M-my ter-“ She began, only for her voice to squeak, necessitating for her to reach towards a nearby glass of water which she demolished in three quick gulps. I continued to wait patiently regardless, and by the time she finished her glass she turned her attention to me with revitalized triumph.

“My terms-“ Rin repeated, her lips carefully enunciating her demands. “Is that any and all such information would be granted to _you_ in trust. You can’t share this information with anyone else, including your Master. Beyond that, I have security concerns, so any reading of this information should only be done in t-the Tohsaka Manor.”

She paused briefly, glancing over to me to see my reaction, whereupon I nodded in agreement. That seemed reasonable enough, certainly I would have probably demanded the same if I was in control of such valuable information. The Tohsaka Master almost purred in delight at that, before continuing.

“Ahem. Beyond that, I want a state of non-aggression to exist between your group and mine.” She noted boldly. “You might not want to throw your lot in with me, and irritating though that may be, I understand. However, I will _not_ allow anything I tell you to be turned against the Tohsaka once you’ve learnt what you needed to. It also means that we don’t necessarily have to come to each other’s aid in case of an attack from another Master, but then by doing so you’d be risking the loss of my resources if they somehow succeed in besting me.”

Ah, I see. How remarkably cunning of her. Beyond the perfunctory details, that non-aggression pact essentially meant that while she wouldn’t stick her neck out for me unless she had anything to gain from it, it also forced me to bail her out if I considered that her life was under significant threat. I could easily imagine that whatever information she’d have on hand in regards to the Einzberns and Matous would likely be hidden behind some magical lock and key. If she died, then I’d lose my source of information.

“Very well, though I hasten to add that any deliberate falsehoods in the information granted to me would dissolve this non-aggression pact. Upon learning of all the facts, should I seek to side with the Tohsaka, then that would be all well and good. But if you would seek to paint the other two Families in a negative light so as to influence my decision via deliberate manufacture and distribution of any falsehoods, then our deal is over.”

Rin scoffed at that. “Fair enough. I would also add that we should share any relevant information regarding the safety of the other participant whenever applicable-“

“Objection.” I noted calmly, much to Rin’s apparent irritation. “Relevant information is much too vague. If I were to hear from, say, the Matou Master that you were an irritant and needed to be disposed of, in passing then I imagine that I’d have to constantly report any and all such information, even if it ultimately amounts to nothing. If we have to entertain this particular addendum, I’d say that we should share such information that portrays a credible threat to the other party.”

Silence fell upon my statement, which I took as her mulling over my addition. Eventually, when that silence endured far past what would be considered reasonable, I looked away from my meal and towards the Tohsaka Master.

Her gaze was set to the table, a hard, expression on her face that was equal parts cold and vulnerable at the same time. Her grip on her chopsticks had tightened enough that it threatened to crack beneath her fingers, and there was a slight increase in her breathing that suggested an elevated heartrate. Her eyes were narrowed, as though deep in thought, and the glassy nature of her stare changed not one bit even when I reached my hand out to hers.

“I-If it means that much to you, we could just share any relevant information.” I noted lamely, somewhat concerned by the sudden change in her persona. Rin blinked at my words, before eventually shaking her head, the gesture seemingly much more weary than it had been seconds ago.

“N-no, it’s fine.” She waved my concern off, though she did not move her hand away from mine. “Your suggestion is good, I agree.”

I frowned. I doubted that it was anywhere close to even resembling fine, considering Rin’s sudden loss of vitality. Despite that, I knew better to pry, and merely smiled gently instead.

“Let’s take a break for now. It’s been an exciting lunch period for the both of us, and I think we’ve hashed out the meat of the matter.”

She gave a grimace, before shaking her head. “Fair enough, though I think that I’ll be retiring for now. It’s been an…interesting negotiation, certainly, but if you have no intention of standing by me as an ally, then I’ll have to settle my affairs and prepare for the war in my own way. Even if you aren’t going to harm me, there are other participants that wouldn’t be quite so agreeable as you.”

My frown deepened. This was serious then, both in regards to Rin’s mood as it was for our agreement. I suspected that if I let her go now, then while the letter of our agreement would stand, I doubted that the potential for an alliance would be very much in the cards. Despite the frailties in her bloc, as seen with Kotomine’s influence, I was not so eager to write off a potential alliance with Tohsaka Rin unless absolutely necessary.

“I have nothing else to do for the afternoon.” I smile, tactfully leaving out my dinner with the Einzbern child. “Let me come with you. At the very least that way I could settle any concerns about you backing out of the agreement. I’m sure there are plenty of things in the Tohsaka library that I’d find particularly interesting.”

Emotion flared in her eyes again, and she made a face at me, causing my grin to widen. Experience had told me that a sad, morose, woman was far more difficult for me to handle than an angry one. Perhaps it had something to do with my emotional obtuseness, but at the very least I was more comfortable with outright anger than I was with quiet depression.

“Are you saying that you think I’d back out of my word? Me? The Heir of the Tohsaka?”

I licked my lips. Intonation and phrasing were the important part here. “No, not at all.” I answered glibly. “But it _is_ a convenient way for me to watch out for you without me injuring your pride. It’s obvious that you’re uncomfortable in some way, and even if we aren’t in a formal alliance for now, I derive no pleasure in seeing you hurt.”

Rin blinked at my announcement, before blinking again. Several moments passed in confused silence before, just as suddenly as her bad mood had manifested, her face transformed into a tomato. The girl made a panicked sound in her throat, halfway between a dolphin’s squeal and a cat’s death rattle, before she snatched her hand, still held in my grasp, away from mine.

“I-I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” She eeped out, her eyes panicked. I leaned back slightly, reeling my hand back to the rest of me, even as she seemed to struggle with what to say.

“Of course.”

“And you’ll be leaving, yes?” She said again, her gaze anywhere but in front of her. “Leaving with me?”

“If you want me to.”

“I-I’ll be returning to my home. There are preparations I have to make, and I wouldn’t want you to be caught unprepared-“

“I always wondered what the inside of your house was like. It seemed rather nice on the outside.”

This reminder, that I remembered our first meeting, seemed to be too much for her. Rin quieted down, head to the floor, essentially dead to the world as I waved for the waitress to come over with our bill. When the waitress did arrive, she seemed to be doing her absolute best in containing her mirth, her smile only slightly peeking out of the bounds of propriety. I gave her a shrug, Rin was a teenager after all, and thus prone to irrationality and impulse. For whatever reason, this only seemed to amuse the waitress even more, and she walked away with a grin plastered onto her face.

“Fine, you asked for it.” Rin ground out, standing suddenly as she focused her gaze on me. It seemed particularly difficult for her to do so, so I merely stared back at her expectantly, which didn’t seem to set her at ease. She turned away, taking half a dozen steps towards the exit before turning around, frowning at me, then walking off once again.

I sighed as I stood to follow her. It was easier when ‘relevant information’ simply amounted to who I had to kill and where they were hiding from me. Things were much more complicated with this Holy Grail War nonsense, even if I had to concede that I was having much more fun than I initially anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case one has yet to see it, Eiznel over on spacebattles made some wonderful fanart of Caster Tanya that you really should take a look at. It really is wonderful, and might as well be canon as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> Edit: Error corrected upon Tanya's mulling over the identities of the other Servants.  
> \---
> 
> https://i.ibb.co/g9nYQfb/FD3-D2-AD6-8676-4-A08-802-D-EC6938466670.png


	23. 3.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Visit to the Tohsaka Manor goes only slightly awry.

3.3

“Rin?”

“Yes, Archer?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Of course, Archer.”

“From my understanding, the plan was to have a quick lunch with Caster, after which we were to return home. “

“Well it _was_ a fairly quick lunch wasn’t it?” Rin commented cattishly, prompting a long-suffering sigh from her put-upon Servant.

“Yes, true enough.” Archer conceded hesitantly. “But I don’t recall our strategy meeting involved leaving the hotel with Caster in tow.”

“Ah well, that’s only to be expected. You _are_ an old man after all, with all that grey hair of yours.” Rin drawled. “Besides, plans do change, isn’t that what you always harp on about? Expect the unexpected, adapt to circumstances, all that rot? I’m rather disappointed in you, you know. The moment something deviates from the plan, you get all distracted and bothersome in front of my guest.”

His brow quirked, lips pursed in irritation. “I am not at all distracted and bothersome, merely curious-“

“Well, I’m sure that’s what it looks like to _you_.” Rin huffed. “I bet making all those blades of yours makes you a fine swordsman, for all that you’ve been summoned as an Archer anyway, but it’s evident that your social graces hadn’t survived your transformation into a Heroic Spirit, has it? I haven’t seen you eat yet, but I bet your table manners are _dreadful._ ”

This time, Archer didn’t even vocalize his distaste, merely shaking his head as the two walked side by side ahead of me. They hadn’t been doing this little back and forth display for very long, about as long as it took for us to get out of the taxi some ways into the Miyama district, but what this discussion of theirs lacked in length it made up for in quality. If nothing else, they were inadvertently supplying me with a wealth of information on their Master-Servant dynamics, on top of them acting out this bemused comedic pairing anyway.

I was actually quite impressed watching over the two, and despite Rin’s jab at Archer’s social graces, I was fairly certain that the Heroic Spirit knew how to deal with people. Yes, they argued and debated and butted heads, but the fact that he was keeping up at all indicated that he was rather capable of marching to the whims of his mercurial conversation partner. What with the length of this war and all, I doubted very much that he would have been contracted to the Tohsaka Master any longer than a week now, and yet the man was conversing with her like he’d known the girl for years. It was a striking contrast with my own Master, which resembled the kind of professional distance and courtesy one would expect in an established conglomerate; I’ve hired you to do your job, which means that if I hover or micromanage your actions, I’d be wasting my own time and effort. A rather ideal situation, and if not for his appalling lack of consideration for the sanctity of international law, I’d probably have preferred it. No one wants a hovering micromanager for a boss after all.

Still, I’d been in close physical contact with Rin for the better part of an hour now, yet the fact that Archer only chose this moment to show himself was somewhat curious. Of course, he couldn’t very well show himself in his full regalia at lunch or within the cab itself, but at the very least I’d expected him to follow us in his astral form. Instead, following my lunch with Rin, I’d lost track of him. Rin herself hadn’t seemed very concerned, which told me that whatever it was he was up to was something Rin was aware of at least. Perhaps even something she had ordered him to do, inasmuch as someone like him was capable of following her orders anyway. That, or he had some measure of presence concealment active that allowed him follow me without me noticing, which was more than a little concerning. An Archer capable of sniping me from afar was one thing, but a man as wily as this one would be capable of using such a skill to its full advantage.

However, absent that mildly concerning thought, I was inclined to believe that Archer had obeyed a task for Rin and left her presence to commit to it. It certainly explained his irritation for the moment, as no Servant would be comfortable leaving their Master alone in the presence of another Servant. His appearance now, in Miyama Town, further told me that his business had something to do with their territory. Perhaps he’d adjusted their defenses, or cleared out vital information before I’d arrived, or any of another dozen reasons I could think of for him to arrive before us. He could have been cleaning the manor for all I knew, which was an amusing enough thought, unlikely though it may be.

Still, that Archer chose to manifest here and communicate vocally with his Master was almost certainly deliberate. If he was intent on privacy or ease of communication, he could have simply communicated whatever he needed to telepathically. Perhaps he had simply had enough of his Master so close to danger, and manifested himself close by so as to protect her from me. Worse yet, perhaps he saw me getting closer to Rin as the maneuver to edge him out of his contract with her that it actually was, which would be much more concerning.

“Caster?”

I blinked, looking up, only to find Archer glancing at me. To his side, Rin seemed rather put out, staring grimly at her Servant.

“I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”

The Servant smirked, his tone idle and seemingly innocent, an act that only seemed to draw Rin’s ire. “Oh no worries. I was merely giving you my condolences. If it was up to me, I would have told you to flee before your date. Take it from me, even an hour alone with this girl can be rather troublesome.”

His Master sputtered next to him, the sound strangely similar to a dying engine, and Archer laughed. She recovered quickly, the strangled sound transforming into a growl. “That’s rich, coming from you! You’re acting like staying by my side is _suuuuch_ a Sisyphean endeavor, but the moment I ask you to leave, you’re like some abandoned puppy I found off the side of the road! I bet it would be harder for me to cut off my own arm that it would be to get you to follow orders!”

The Servant shrugged, a smile on his face. “If you’d like, I could lend you a blade. I can assure you that mine would fulfill the deed, though I’d caution you to be careful with it. Cutting off one’s arm is much more difficult than it seems.”

“Oh, _really_? Who would have thought!”

I gave a polite smile, unwilling to interfere in a….contractual dispute, between Master and Servant. They were nothing if not amusing, though I did carefully consider the information presented to me. Was Archer really as rebellious as he seemed, or was it merely an act for my benefit? If it was _not_ an act, was his rebellion legitimate, or because Rin preferred a Servant that spoke his mind? Archer seemed too observant not to recognize he was antagonizing his Master unnecessarily, too sly not to do anything without immediate benefit, which suggested that keeping Rin in a state of irritation was preferable than not doing so.

At the very least it kept travel lively, though even that had to end eventually.

“Well, here we are.” Rin declared, her tone paradoxically both proud and anxious as she opened her doors and allowed me through. “You’ve been here before, of course, but I’m glad to welcome you properly.”

The Tohsaka Manor was a handsome thing, tasteful enough, even if a casual glance revealed that it trended towards the same kind of varnished wood and dim lighting of some genteel nobleman’s house of the 1920s. In fact, if I were to rip this entire structure apart and date each individual fiber of wood and speck of stone, I would be greatly surprised if any of it had been set into the structure at any point later than the Second War. It was greatly anachronistic compared even to the standards of when I was alive, an act that seemed a deliberate. It was honestly quite jarring, as the attitude seemed the complete opposite of what Galliasta himself had demonstrated. Despite the man’s faults, and there were many, my current Master didn’t seem at all hesitant in making use of more modern devices whenever necessary. Of course, there was a distinct difference his perception of what modern technology was and its actual reality, but at least there was a degree of effort involved in the process. Then again, the man had noted that all Three Families were, in some form or another, in some semblance of a decline; perhaps this ancient structure was but a symptom of that, the clan clinging to old glories and the decaying grandeur of what they once were.

I stepped through the aperture, my foot impacting the wood below, before I froze. Vaguely, I noted Rin’s frown of concern, as well as Archer’s watchful gaze behind me, though I was too distracted to really make note of it very well.

Magical boundaries were an interesting topic. They weren’t really an active element in computation magic due to a variety of issues, foremost of which being that the idea of magical algorithms functioning without active effort from a mage was a conundrum that even modern-day Germania had problems with. Well, rather, that the Germania of a little bit over a decade ago had anyway. It was quite possible that the Ministry of Applied Paraphysics had finally struck gold on that front, presuming that their promises of being at the ‘cusp of the discovery of the century’ was in any way reliable. I doubted it though, as that Ministry had been saying that they were at the cusp of some hitherto unparalleled discovery on a near monthly basis ever since they were founded in the early 40’s. After a while of constantly hearing just how ‘bleeding edge’ one’s science division claims to be, one begins to struggle to take them seriously.

Regardless, up until reaching the Tohsaka Household, I’d only really experienced two magical boundaries; the Ryuudou Temple and Galliasta’s Tower. While the former had little in common with Tohsaka’s boundary, my experience with Galliasta’s work allowed me to appreciate what exactly had been done to this place.

Galliasta’s defenses were constructed with a tendency towards utilitarianism and his family magic, a sort of reliance on sacrifice for immediate effect, as I saw when he’d been experimenting with those children. As such, none of Galliasta’s defenses were, strictly speaking, arranged with the intent to kill or overpower anyone, a prudent measure once one considered the scenario as a whole. The energy necessary to fry someone with bottled lightning, or to burn them alive once they’d passed an aperture, would be both hideously expensive when extrapolated to the size of a skyscraper, while also likely causing more harm than good; wiring an entire structure with spells designed to combust to any effective degree wasn’t exactly a practical idea if you wanted to keep the building intact. As a result, the measures Galliasta employed were focused on misdirection and defense. A labyrinth designed to confuse and beguile, all while the walls themselves would regenerate from whatever damage one would likely inflict, meaning that fighting your way through would only become more and more difficult the farther you went.

The Tohsaka household did not seem to care very much for the considerations that Galliasta himself employed. My earlier assumption that one of the Three Families had built their house atop the leyline was correct, and it seemed to me that the Tohsaka had taken advantage of their superior position with all the grace of the established elite. From what l could see, the Tohsaka had foregone any desire to minimize energy consumption in favor of maximizing a spell’s intended effect. There were a variety of interconnecting shields and barriers here, a potent degree of magical strength that spoke of generations of Magi working and improving upon the efforts of the previous generation. A multilayered shield, intended to protect its inhabitants as thoroughly as possible while maximizing the pain and grief of whatever interloper that sought a way in.

I suppose that if I had to figure out a more concrete example, Tohsaka’s household was like a turtle shell. Strong, sturdy, impervious to assault. Part of that was due to the manor’s smaller size than Galliasta’s Tower, but the immediate effect was obvious. In a perfect scenario wherein an opposing entity would choose to assault this place in the obvious, direct, way it had been built to protect against, I imagine that a conventional Servant would find themselves repulsed in short order.

A hand reached out for the walls, and I fancied that the manor could sense me, the lethargic, reptilian, intelligence of something like an ancient dinosaur blinking warily at me. 

Oh yes, I could work with this. I could work with this very well. Perhaps I had judged the manor too quickly.

“Tanya? Is everything okay?” My gaze shifted towards the girl. I gave her a smile, two parts reassuring, one-part obfuscating.

“Apologies, something had crossed my mind was all.”

Her brow quirked, obviously not really believing me, which I didn’t mind. The talk with Archer seemed to have settled the anxiety that had been running so rife within her, and the concern I’d expected to see was replaced with a sort of cool calculation. Curiously, instead of egging his Master on, Archer remained silent behind me. Rin glanced at his direction, a silent look exchanged with her Servant, and I forced my thoughts away from the Manor’s boundary. It seemed as though their little comedic routine was over for now, and it was back to business as usual.

I coughed politely, drawing their attention back to me. “I’m rather parched. Would it be possible to ask for refreshments?”

It was a bald-faced lie, of course. Servants were never ‘parched’, nor were they ever ‘hungry’. Still, such useful social conventions were sometimes necessary in cases like this, when uncertainty over a proper course of action was evident. Anxiety and discomfort often came about from such uncertainty; by allowing Rin a familiar method by which to entertain a guest, hopefully such discomfort would fade.

Rin seemed to have gotten the message, as she nodded in acquiescence. “Of course. Archer, could you lead Tanya to the lounge and prepare her something? I’ll be with you both shortly.”

Hidden beneath that was the discreet order to watch over me so I wouldn’t stray, but that was reasonable enough. Moments later, Archer was leading me through the halls as I spotted Rin disappearing somewhere on the second floor, which gave me time to think.

“It’s Tanya now, I see.”

Or at least, it would have given me time to think. I sighed. “Rin thought it awkward, to be so formal when discussing the possibility of an alliance.” I smiled, though Archer didn’t see it what with his back turned to me. “I didn’t mind, of course. The Grail may have informed me of the typical social conventions that the Akinese typically practice, but I nonetheless prefer to be more….direct in my dealings. Last I checked, calling someone by their given name is not considered a social faux pas in the rest of the world, after all.”

Something of a misdirection there, though I doubted that Archer would be aware of that. I was quite familiar with Akinese social conventions, both in my first life and in the subsequent one, though I’d discovered that what with the Emperor’s influence never waning in this time, that the tradition one would expect for his station never _really_ wavered like I presumed. Every representative he sent to me were of the old hidebound, honorable, breed that would rather suffer ritualized suicide and the decimation of their familial line than suffer the shame of a social faux pas by referring to me by my given name.

“Hmm, I see.” Archer hummed aloud, as he opened the door to reveal the aforementioned lounge. “Do you prefer tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please.”

Silence then, as the other Servant proceeded to prepare me the drink. I allowed it to pass, and I waited patiently for the other Servant to, inevitably, break the silence.

“What do you think of my Master?” He eventually asked, his tone light and conversational. Not exactly the subtlest of approaches perhaps, but that was fine. I could work with that.

“Oh? Would you like the kind of answer you’d be expecting me to make, or a more honest consideration of her capabilities?”

“Considering that she’s not currently here, and I doubt an honest analysis from her idol within her presence would be more trouble than it’s worth, let’s err on the side of honesty.”

Idol eh? I shrugged. “She seems honest, and kind. I suspect that she is aware of the typical social conventions between people, but is rather more taken aback when put into situations she was uncertain of. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was feeding you information during our lunch, but I noted that she was more comfortable when our conversation was arranged in a form that she was more familiar with. It speaks to a kind of inexperience that she does very well to hide at first glance, though I’m sure those who’ve spoken to her long enough would recognize that, wouldn’t you say Archer?”

The other Servant finally turned around, carrying my cup of coffee and related condiments, before settling the plate before me. I nodded in thanks, even as he shook his head in distaste. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have allowed her to that lunch.”

“Well of course not.” I shrugged. “You seem like a prudent, clear minded, sort. Leaving one’s Master in the presence of another Servant is tantamount to suicide for our kind, but that just speaks to her inexperience, no?”

“An inexperience you took advantage of.”

Another shrug, before I took the cup in hand and allowed its aroma to wash over me. I briefly considered the possibility that it was poisoned, before waving it off as unlikely. I was within their realm of influence now, if they wanted to kill me, there would be far more direct, far more effective, ways than poisoning the coffee pot. “Nonsense. If I had taken ‘advantage’ of her, as you say, we would not be speaking.”

“Oh?”

“No, not likely. Even with your Independent Action ability, I doubt you would survive without her. Not long enough to matter, in any case. I doubt we’d be talking so calmly to each other in the unlikely event that we meet each other again in those circumstances.”

I took a sip, pretending not to notice the look on Archer’s face, before a look of genuine surprise came over my own. The coffee was rather good, excellent even, though I felt that admitting that to him would rather damper the mood I’d set. I waited a few more moments until I was certain that Archer was not likely to respond, before gracing him with a smile.

“Relax, remember our conversation last night. I have no intention of hurting her, remember? I am not in the habit of murdering children, not unless I can help it, and I think we both have a great deal to gain by working with each other.”

“You certainly have a funny way of showing it.” He remarked dryly.

“Well, it seems to me that this’ll be the only real opportunity for us to have a chat without your Master hanging over us. I thought it best to clear the air before she arrived, I know I wouldn’t feel very confident if my Master was having discreet rendezvous with strange Servants. I’d start to think that I was lacking something. As such, I thought it best to clarify my position with you-.”

There was a quiet thump above us, followed by what sounded like a girlish scream, that caused both of us to turn our attention upwards. Archer chuckled, prompting a look.

“For all that Rin is an inexperienced, kind, girl.” He noted, parroting my words back to me. “She _does_ get rather full of herself. I find that it’s easier to knock her ego down a peg or two every once in a while, keeps things stable. That and it gives us a bit more time to talk.”

“Oh?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. “I don’t imagine that knocking her down a peg would give us more time. Quite the opposite in fact, if you’ve sufficiently angered her.”

“True.” He conceded. “But not if she’s soaking wet as a consequence. She’d try to make herself presentable again before coming down here, so I’d say we have a few more minutes.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but allow myself a smile, one which I quickly covered with my cup. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Archer. Though in the spirit of male exuberance the world over, I suppose I could answer whatever questions you might have. Within reason, of course.”

“I won’t be asking for much.” Archer shrugged. “Just a few clarifications on your history.”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, I’d appreciate a bit of anonymity. I thought I’d be done answering questions like this _after_ I died, and yet here I am answering them all the same. The afterlife truly isn’t what I imagined it’d be.”

Another misdirection. For the likes of Heroic Spirits like us, supposedly innocent questions about our history were never really as innocent as they first appeared. When things like my death, or my preferences, my irritations and all the like were subject to some sort of cosmic transformation into my current form, innocent questions regarding my past were rarely ever as innocent as they appeared. If I’d known that wearing that wretched dress-jacket combo would have followed me into death as thoroughly as it had, I would have just worn my flight suit throughout my entire reign. At least then I’d have pants whenever I was flying around and spare me what remained of my dignity.

“So what’s it to be?” I asked, setting the cup aside. “Is it Arene? Though that’s a common one, I doubt whatever I could say now wouldn’t have been thoroughly covered in the papers. You could ask about either of the Great Wars, that’s a fairly common question as well.”

“No, nothing as specific as that.” He sighed, before settling himself on the seat opposite me. “I was wondering about whether you’d experienced anything unusual while you were alive.”

I quirked my brow. “You’re going to have to be more specific there, Archer. I don’t believe I’m being inaccurate when I say that, what with me being a Heroic Spirit, there would be a wealth of information about me that one would not typically consider to be ‘usual’.”

Archer leaned back upon his chair, sighing. “It’s a theory I’m working on right now. You see, I’ve been wondering about your status as a Heroic Spirit.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Grey eyes glinted dangerously as he looked at me. “You know, you’re one of the youngest Heroic Spirits I know of? You’ve been dead for…what, eleven years? Twelve? Yet here you are, fully manifested into the Caster class and keeping up with the likes of Saber and myself. It’s rather impressive.”

“Thank you.” I nodded to him, which was received with a smile. “Is that so unusual though? Your own words suggest that you’re familiar with other Heroic Spirits younger than me, so I would not believe my case to be so out of the ordinary as to necessitate you questioning me over it.”

He shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. But the general rule would be that every other Heroic Spirit that I’m aware of would have had to be dead for a very, very, long time before they could be summoned. Theoretically speaking, if it’s just a case of you being dead for such a short time, I wouldn’t put too much of a fuss about it. Stranger things have happened, but coupled with the rest of your history, I begin to wonder.”

A hand reaches his chin, supporting it as he looked at me. “A soldier by the age of nine. A war hero over the course of a handful of years. By the time you were a grown woman, you’d seen more death and destruction than men quadruple your age. Most would have stopped there, but you were still young, and so you went even further. You gained your Chancellorship, you defeated your enemies, you led your country to victory, then presided over a reign of Pax Germannia that’s lasted for almost a hundred years.”

“Give or take a decade or so, depending on when exactly you’d count it to have begun.” I responded glibly, though below my mask I briefly wondered whether I’d have to fight my way out of here. “Your point?”

Amusement manifested itself upon his lips, curving upwards in a pleased grin. “Only exactly what I’ve said. You’re unusual. Believe me when I say, that you might be the most unusual element of this war, at least from my own limited perspective. The odds involved in your…. creation, let’s say, are so unlikely that I can’t help but imagine something else occurring in the background of your struggles during those wars. You’ve touched too many things about this world, affected far too much, for me to believe you were allowed to happen naturally.”

Unbidden, I think back to _It,_ and my expression darkens. Archer continued to blabber on.

“Most of the more ‘modern’ Heroic Spirits typically have an exception that allows them to manifest as they do.” He wondered aloud. “The sooner it’s been since their death, the more likely it is that something’s off, in my experience. Then again, I’ve never met a modern Heroic Spirit quite as famous as you, so I suppose that it’s possible you could have been summoned naturally.”

“I suppose so.”

There was something in my tone, I think, that attracted Archer’s attention. He turned to me, giving me a considering look that I found infuriating enough that I wanted to carve it out of him with a knife. The impulse worsened as he smiled.

“So, what do you think? Am I right? About you being unusual?”

I knew why he was doing this, of course. The kinds of questions he posed, the interest in my affairs so far past the bounds of acceptable conversation, could not be easily answered by reading through the history of my past or listening to the handful of interviews I’d allowed when I was alive. It was a more secret, intimate, information than none alive would truly know, and it was why he was asking me about it now.

He knew nothing for certain. He could not know about Being X, and my experience with It. He could not have known that the only reason I was even _here_ , in this world, was due to Its interference. There was no proof, or at the very least there was no proof that he could easily reach within the confines of the war, and so his only real resort was to confront me about it and determine the truth from my reactions. I would have to endeavor to give him as little as possible.

“My triumphs are my own, Archer.” I said, allowing a hint of my anger to slip through. “My triumphs are my own. For you to presume I had some kind of _help_ of any kind is irritating, that the course of my life had been prearranged in some way, insulting. The only _help_ I’ve had in any way was the people around me, nothing more, nothing less.”

Archer didn’t seem to know what to make of that. He studied me for a while longer, though before he could add anything else, we both noted the sound of rapidly closing footsteps. He sighed.

“Damn.” He muttered to himself, as I reached for my cup of coffee, taking a sip again as I braced myself for her arrival. “I thought I’d have at least a few more minutes.”

I shrugged. “You were playing with fire, Archer. It’s only natural for you to get burned.”

At the other side of the room, Tohsaka Rin arrived. She was carrying a number of books, though perhaps _tomes_ would be more appropriate what with their age and size rivaling that of some medieval encyclopedia. She’d had a change of clothes now, a red blouse, black skirt and stockings, a more casual set than her sweater-skirt combo. Nonetheless it gave her something of a mature look that was completely undermined by the sheer murderous rage in her eyes. I knew, instinctively, that nothing Archer would say would make his situation any better. Predictably, that left him no other option but to delve deeper into the abyss.

“Why hello there, Master.” He smiled cheerily, standing as he did so. “I was just entertaining our guest and-“

_“Get out.”_

He blinked in confusion, before thinking on her words in a casual display of suicidal ideation. “That’s rather vague Maste-“

“I don’t care where you _go._ ” She growled, dropping the stack of tomes unto the table with such force it was a wonder the poor thing didn’t crack in twain. “Just get _out_. You’ve had your chance, and you’re going to pay for it, but I’ll deal with you _later_.”

“As you command, Master-“

“I gave you an _order_ , Archer. Why are you still here?”

Archer chuckled at that, dissipating into his astral form as he dissolved in thin air. Vaguely, I sensed his exit out of the house until I could barely sense his presence at the very limit of my senses, whereupon Rin collapsed beside me.

“I’m going to kill him one day.” She murmured viciously, eyes staring directly into the ceiling above her. “He won’t see it coming, I’ll make _sure_ he won’t see it coming. Then, right before he dissolves, I’m gonna throw a water balloon at his face and see how _he_ likes it.”

I nodded amiably, lightly patting her shoulder in a display of womanly solidarity as I reached for the uppermost tome. “There there.” I intoned solemnly.

Rin waved her hand in the rough direction of the book pile. “There you go. A history on the Three Families, as promised. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Not everything about the Matous or the Einzberns are listed in those books, but I should be able to fill you in on the rest.”

“Thank you.” I noted, before glancing over at a nearby clock. It was half past one now, so I’d have around five hours or so to really get into the meat of all this. I doubted that I really needed everything in here, I doubted the existence of an Einzbern two hundred years ago would be particularly relevant to my current situation, so I was fairly certain I’d find something of value before that.

“You’re welcome.” She sighed, before turning over to the side and watching me carefully. “See? I told you I’d keep my word.”

I nodded. “That you did. Would you prefer we perform the contract here, or elsewhere?”

Rin blinked at that, confused. I gave her a smile. “Our deal, I mean. Our ‘not quite an alliance, alliance’. I’m unfamiliar with how exactly magi do it, but if you’d have some contract you need signed or whatever else, I’d be more than happy to commit to it.”

She stared at me briefly for a moment, thoughts lurking beneath her gaze, before she averted her eyes and stared back up into the wall again. “It’s fine. You don’t need to sign anything.”

I blinked. That was rather unexpected. “Are you sure? I believe my own Master said something about Geass-“

“I’m not interested in securing our alliance with a _contract_ , Tanya.” She grumbled, gaze resolutely away from mine. “If the only way I could get other people to fight with me was due to some _contract_ , then what’s the point? If you really wanted to get out of it, you could just find some loophole in our terms and undermine me through that.”

For a moment, I felt compelled to clarify that a properly worded contract would ensure that those kinds of concerns would be bypassed easily enough. Mankind had been working on the fine art of professional legalese since the dawn of civilization after all, and I was fairly certain she’d be capable of producing a contract robust enough to guard against that kind of deception. Thankfully, even I could tell that wasn’t exactly the point of what she was getting at here.

“That’s certainly not a wise move.” I commented gently, earning a look of ire pointed my way before I raised my hands in surrender. “But I do appreciate it. Thank you for your trust.”

Rin averted her gaze again, turning away from me in a fit of pique as I pretended not to notice her embarrassment. She was a young girl, from a proud family, so it stood to reason that my admonishment would not be taken very well. Nonetheless I had patience, and I had time, so I didn’t mind waiting her out.

As it turned out, it didn’t take all that long, and eventually I sensed movement from her direction as she turned her gaze towards me. I stopped what I was doing, reading through a remarkably dry chapter about the origins of Fuyuki City, and turned to face her.

“You’re welcome.” She eventually managed, her gaze carefully swept away from my direction as she picked up one of the other books. “It’s been a while since I’ve read through all of these, but I remember enough. I can help you skip through the useless bits, there’s a _lot_ of those, until we find something worthwhile.”

I nod. “That would be appreciated, though I suppose we can just start with the obvious. Do any of these books have anything to do with the Fourth War?”

That was the first thing I looked for. Of course, there aren’t any books about it per se, but my Father was a deliberate person. He would have chronicled everything he thought worthwhile into his journal for me, and I can’t find _that_ anywhere.” Rin’s expression darkened. “I think Kotomine has it.”

Ah. That _would_ be troublesome to acquire. “That’s fine. I don’t suppose he told you anything about what happened then in regards to the other families?”

Rin hesitated for a moment, before shaking her head. “Only bits and pieces. I knew that Kotomine and my father disagreed on which enemy to prioritize, my Father thought Saber was a priority, while the Priest wished to focus on Lancer. Beyond that? Not much.”

Well that was a shame, not particularly useful either, but that was fine. There were three other wars to review, and if nothing else, she could prove useful there. Rin seemed depressed about her inability to further clarify on the Fourth War, or maybe she was just upset at Kotomine, I wasn’t very clear on that.

Nonetheless, if there was a sure cure to depression, it was the knowledge that one was useful. I went through one of the books, eventually finding something on the Third War to ask.

“What about this one?” I asked, my eyes drawn to a vaguely familiar name. “Edelfelt?”

At the flash of irritation in her eyes, I could tell that I’d hit the mark on _something_ , though I wasn’t sure whether it was the right target or not. Still, at least she didn’t seem depressed anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Hades has been a bane on my existence, stealing hours of my life away without me even noticing it doing so. I just…really like the bow, okay?
> 
> This chapter's somewhat shorter than the previous, which may or may not be a good thing, depending on how one would take this one. Next chapter is likely to be an interlude.


	24. X. Tresillo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein climbing up and down a building isn't quite as easy as it seems.

  1. Tresillo



As much as _others_ might imply, Isabel wasn’t particularly inclined towards exaggeration and hyperbole. Yeah, she could be excitable, yes there were times when she’d been a tad too energetic or passionate about things, but that wasn’t the same as her being _sloppy_. If you were being sloppy, you were being unprofessional. You were being….what was the word-, you were being careless, you were getting lazy and, most of all, you were being incompetent.

That was the problem with most people really, at least in her experience. The expectation was that if you were good at what you do, if you were the best of the best, then you had to carry yourself with all the nobility and grace of some dull eyed lady-in-waiting. When the Tresillo were in negotiations with prospective clients, they always responded better to, say, Rodriguez or Laurent than they did to her, which was _fine_. That was _fine_. Never mind that she could probably outfly Roddy with her blindfold on or fillet Laurent layer by layer while he was still trying to figure out not to hold the business end of the knife, the fact that she showed _excitement_ was seen as unprofessional.

Ugh. Unprofessional. What a terrible word.

But no, she was getting sidetracked. The point was, yes she could be excitable, but she wasn’t incompetent or manic when she was in one of those moods. That was only reasonable after all; a surgeon would like to think that their hands were steady, an accountant would believe that they had a head for mathematics, and a reconnaissance specialist would imagine themselves to transmit information clearly and without embellishment.

As such, Isabel was fairly certain she could say that, with absolutely little to no exaggeration, that she’d essentially peaked as a human being over the last twelve hours. Fulfilled her purpose. Just completely and utter satisfaction, the understanding that nothing you’d do would match the effort and experience you just had, which was just _great_ really. Knowing that she’d never fly higher than she would at this moment was just a huge weight off her shoulders. When everything from here was just downhill, then it allowed one to simply let your hands stray from the wheel and let destiny take point.

Or Tanya von Degurechaff in this case, which might as well be the same thing in all honesty. 

Even if the Chancellor hadn’t instructed her to keep the events of last night secret, Isabel was fairly certain she’d have never told a soul about what happened anyway. I mean, what was the point? It’s not like anyone would believe her; an objective accounting of what had occurred over the past twenty four hours alone would read as her fantasies come to life. Degurechaff back from the grave, to participate in a contest with other Heroes of the past? That she’d been inducted- okay inducted was a bit too much- that she’d been made _aware_ of a secret mage underground operating beneath the fabric of civilized society. That she’d met the Chancellor, that she’d been entrusted as a partner and accomplice, that she’d given her secrets to keep? If not for the fact that she had video recordings of the night before that chronicled the event, which she’d dutifully deleted because she wasn’t an _idiot_ , she’d have been convinced that it had been some sordid, embarrassing, dream preying upon her subconscious.

But no, that was far too simple a solution, wasn’t it? Sleep would have been an easy way out. It meant that, when the Chancellor had eyed her briefly during the meeting, she could have pretended it was an innocent glance instead of the understanding between accomplices it actually was.

Her nine year old self would have been _fiercely_ jealous. Hell, the version of Isabel even a week ago would have been just as jealous, if a bit more murdery about it, which was only fair. She’d have lorded it over them all like the lower-class peasants they truly were, and lord knows Isabel could be disastrously smug about things if she didn’t keep it in check.

She was aware that she wasn’t acting rationally, but at this point she was finding it very, very, hard to care. The events of last night had been so world shattering, her body so hopped up on adrenaline and endorphins, that she hardly got a wink of sleep at all. The vast majority of her time had been committed to far more valid alternatives to sleep, like scouring the Chancellor’s wiki page for any potential topic of conversation she could have with the woman to ensure she wasn’t some empty-headed sycophant. It wasn’t as though she’d wanted to do it (much), but what choice did she really have there? It was so, so, _so_ , easy to imagine herself lured into a conversation with her and making a complete and utter idiot of herself.

_‘So, Isabel. What was your opinion on the socio-economic ramifications of the Akitsushima-OZEV Partnership Treaty of 1947?’_

_‘Um, I don’t know, your Majesty. I hadn’t even been born yet-‘_

_‘What a pity. I suppose I’ll have to find myself a new confidant then, one at least marginally capable of holding up an intelligent conversation. Perhaps that one girl with the hunk in red? Begone now Isabel, begone and forever be shamed from my sight.’_

Or something to that effect. Isabel doubted that Degurechaff would really talk like that, if she’d insulted or disappointed her in some way she was fairly certain all she’d get was a _look._ Now, to be fair, that look would probably do more to shatter her sense of self than probably anything else in the world, but she was fairly sure it wouldn’t be quite as universe shattering as she was psyching it up in her head. Psychological deformation rather than world destruction, so to speak. Then again, no one ever said irrational fears like this were reasonable or even particularly sane. The choice was so simple too; choose between embarrassment so thorough that her hypothetical grandchildren would feel it, or lose a few hours of sleep reading up on twentieth century trade deals.

No choice at all really, and the risks had been fairly minimal. Father Kotomine had informed her, as he had with the two Masters in the church, that battles regarding this secret tournament was only really to be done during the night. If not for Laurent opening his stupid mouth and getting everyone into this mess in the first place, she would have been safe and cozy in her bed right now, instead of climbing up and down this blasted building.

The stairwell was dark, abnormally so, with the emergency lights that were _supposed_ to go off in such a situation being pointedly dark for the moment. That in and of itself wasn’t a particularly troublesome obstacle to deal with, especially considering all the crap previous cycles had thrown at them, but that was with the assumption that the company had access to their gear. That most certainly was _not_ the case with Isabel’s current predicament, and so they were reduced to walking around with torches on one hand and knives in the other, because at the very least the rules said nothing in particular about bladed instruments.

At Isabel’s last count, they were on the thirty second climb upwards, an exhausting trip to be done consecutively, but the Chancellor had been merciful in that regard. Breaks at every ten cycles up and down the building was the initial rule, a fairly generous rule that the rest of the company had thought a kindness. That was before the Tresillo as a whole were aware of all the shenanigans happening in the Tower now of course, and by this point the rest of the mercenaries had long since quieted down about ‘Sioux’ being soft.

Isabel supposed she had an advantage in that regard. Considering all the impossible things she’d seen last night, the defenses the Tower employed were a great deal less impressive than the hunk in red’s saturation bombardment or black swordswoman’s fury.

To her side, she noted the shadows slink away from the light of her torch, crawling up the concrete stairway to coalesce into some dark, viscous, shape. The shade drew itself upwards, the air tinged with the coppery scent of blood as shadowed visages crossed across the shade’s face. People she knew, people she had known, the tantalizing itch at the tip of one’s tongue that whispered to you that you _know_ this person, that they were so familiar, and if you just gave a little bit more time to think about it you were sure that you’d remember the name in time.

It was a lie of course, and so Isabel reacted appropriately. Her knife gleamed bright in the light of the stairwell, a thin sliver of light racing across the darkness to cut the shade’s throat. The effects were about as expected, the shade flailing to the ground as its life essence spilled onto the ground. Distantly, a sound that much resembled Fang’s voice emanated from the body, nonsensical words echoing across the stairwell until it finally quieted down and died. A moment later the shade dissipated, the shadows of itself sinking back into the concrete, the darkness of the stairwell becoming just a tad deeper in the process.

Isabel sheathed her knife, absent any sign of the violence a few moments ago, before calling it in. “Apparition 1d, Sensory and auditory illusion. Possible Deimatic display. Sweeper Two, you read me?”

_“Right behind you, Lead. Or at least I think so. Still can’t see you for shit though.”_

Isabel grunted in annoyance. Apparition 2a then, which wasn’t at all a surprise, despite how irritating it was. It had been active ever since the twentieth cycle, masking the presence of the Tresillo from each other with such totality that they were essentially invisible. It had been irritating in the beginning, damn near crippling actually in the initial cycles, wherein entire squads had been lost and separated half a dozen floors from each other because they couldn’t bloody well see each other until they’d gone too far and gotten lost. Things were better now of course, and whatever else its irritations, it beat the alternative of whatever fresh new hell the Tower decided to throw at them today.

Not great, but she supposed she should count her blessings. The fact that the Tower wasn’t messing with their communications was an oversight Isabel and the rest of the squad leaders would happily take advantage of, even if it was more of a matter of time until the Tower would decide to cut them off. “Okay. It’ll be at least three more levels till we meet up with the rest of Sweeper, so we should keep an eye out. As per Laurent’s report, once the Tower recognizes we’re trying to link up with one another, it’s likely gonna be _nasty_.”

Another voice joined comms, vaguely irritated. _“Oh yeah, like that’s any different from the past ten fucking floors.”_

She rolled her eyes at that. “If you’ve got enough energy to complain then that means we’ll be alright. Now, confirm you’re on the step 26-8 marker?”

A few moments of silence, before Three’s voice was heard again. _“Yep, I got it.”_

According to the Chancellor’s briefing, the Tower’s defenses were largely based around illusions, misdirection and defense, information that multiple forays into the Tower had shown to be true. It was the only consideration the Chancellor had given the Tresillo prior the start of the climb, as well as the knowledge that the defenses would slowly ramp up in efficacy with each successful cycle. Disturbingly, the Chancellor had also allowed the company access to their firearms and computation devices once they’ve reached the Thirty-Fifth cycle, which did not at all bode well for things to come.

At the same time, whatever defenses Galliasta had installed weren’t omnipotent. Actual, physical, change of the Tower’s internal infrastructure didn’t seem to be possible, or at the very least wasn’t something the Tower’s defensive systems deemed worthy to invest into what was essentially a trial run of its methods. Fang had discovered that memorization and cataloguing of physical markers or deformation within the stairwell allowed one to track their progress across the floors with reasonable degrees of accuracy. The dented handrail on floor twelve, the slightly misaligned step on floor twenty-three, the creaky _everything_ on floor 43. It was a shame that the company had only noticed the Tower’s limitation so late, had the system been put in place from the very first cycle the Tresillo would likely have already escape by now.

Privately, Isabel had asked the Chancellor whether any of Galliasta’s more….esoteric defenses would trigger while the Tresillo were moving forward with their climb. Degurechaff had merely looked at her, an imperious look on her face, and noted that as long as the company followed the limitations dictated within the rules, then nothing unusual was likely to occur. That was not at all a _reassuring_ message coming from her, and so they carried on as she willed. In teams of three at most, with their composition randomized and chosen by lots, among other limitations.

The narrow confines of the stairwell shifted again, the walls bubbling as the air was suddenly tinged with the taste of blood. A moment later, light flooded the immediate area, revealing a hallway that was too bright, too clean and too unusual to be real.

“Hold.” Isabel commanded, crouching down immediately as the change occurred, her posture still mid step, as her hands studied the air in front of her. Her hands reached out, finding solid concrete in her way, set into an ascending incline. The stairs were still there.

“Apparition 3b, Sensory Illusion.” Isabel noted back to her squad. “Proceed as normal.”

 _“’Proceed as normal’ she says.”_ The vaguely irritated tone of Sweeper Two called out to her, earning some subdued laughter from the rest of the squad. _“Like anything about this damn building is normal. What the hell is all of this anyway? None of this was in the defensive schematics Galliasta gave us.”_

Another voice joined Two’s comment, a guy from Fang’s squad if she remembered correctly, temporarily assigned as Three while he was in this squad. _“Well that would make sense. Doesn’t seem to me like Galliasta’s the kind of guy to put all his cards on the table, yeah?”_

 _“Cards, hands and all that crap are one thing!”_ Morrison groused. _“But this is bullshit! We’re supposed to be protecting this building, aren’t we? None of the schematics we were given about the Tower’s defenses said anything about any of this crap, so that tells me that the man’s holding out on us, for whatever reason. Not that I like the guy mind you-“_

The other voice laughed at that. _“Morrison, you don’t like anybody.”_

_“Hey man, fuck you. I like your scrawny ass enough-“_

_“Kinky.”_

_“Man I will fuck you up if we ever get out of here alive.”_

_“Don’t make promises you’re afraid to keep, Morrison.”_

Isabel rolled her eyes, her attention already passing over her arguing squad as she worked on the stairs. The fact that she could still feel the steps, even if she couldn’t see it, did not necessarily mean that nothing else had been changed. Fang had reported a scenario where three floors worth of stairway had _appeared_ the same as it always was, except for the fact that sections of the stairs had been spiked to trigger hallucinatory phenomena the moment you walked over key points, setting their progress back with each step. Comparatively, invisible stairs weren’t nearly as bad as far as any potential curveballs the Tower could throw at them, which indicated that odds were good something else was waiting in the wings to fuck them up if they made a mistake.

Isabel liked to imagine that the Tower was going easy on her because of what she knew about Degurechaff. If the Tower’s defenses were set up and managed by Galliasta, and he was supposed to be her Master, then it was possible that she’d have some influence over its defenses. It would be nice to imagine that she was watching over her, making sure she didn’t fall into some of the crap that the other squads have been going through.

Then again, Isabel thought wryly, that didn’t really seem like her, did it? The fact that she was here, undergoing punishment with the rest of the company, was proof positive that the Chancellor didn’t play favorites. In a way, Isabel was actually happy with that. She would have felt way too awkward if she’d been singled out as the one person to escape punishment, though having the entire company suffer for Laurent’s big, stupid, mouth seemed somewhat excessive. She could only imagine the reaming that man was gonna get once all this was said and done.

_“So what do you think, boss?”_

Isabel tried very, very, hard to suppress the sudden flinch of surprise from Morrison’s voice, before shaking her head and turning around. It was a stupid gesture, especially considering that they still couldn’t damn well _see_ each other, but instinct was funny that way. “Nothing abnormal. We keep on climbing, just be careful.”

_“Copy.”_

If there was one advantage to the fact they couldn’t see each other, it was that Isabel didn’t have to consider how funny it would be seeing her squad crouched down and slowly climb up the stairs like drunk little crabs, moving one little step at a time. Their progress on the stairs failed to affect the overall orientation of the hallway at all, and though she _knew_ that they were making progress, inch by inch in this case, that the hallway failed to adjust itself accordingly was either bad programming on Galliasta’s part or one of the many ways that the defenses were built to confound and disorientate them.

 _“After all this is done-“_ Morrison began, her voice curious and thoughtful. _“Do you think we can just, go up in a line and beat the shit out of Laurent? Like everyone gets one free shot for his dumbass mouth in getting us all into this. Climbing up Mount Galliasta’s crap was not the way I was planning on spending my day”_

_“I hear that.”_

“This was bound to happen eventually.” Isabel sighed. “Not the climbing the Tower I mean, more the ‘questioning her out loud about who she is’ thing. Everyone was just too damn curious about it, even _after_ I told all of you to let it lie.”

 _“Well that’s easy for you to say.”_ Fang’s man noted wryly. _“Everyone knows you’re buddy buddy with the Boss, boss. I bet she’d answered all your questions by now.”_

Isabel shook her head in bemusement. Not even close. “Does Sioux _sound_ like a person that’s just dying to have a little chat with me behind the scenes? She always seemed like one of those Degurechaff fanatics, y’know the type. Wanting to be like her and emulating her crap, right?”

 _“I get whatcha mean, but it doesn’t really feel right.”_ Morrison wondered aloud. _“She’s not as uptight as those types y’know? Usually they go about with that smug air of superiority like Degurechaff personally blessed their mission to go out into the world and make complete idiots of themselves-“_

“You know, I’m kinda disappointed.” A voice called out to them from on high. “I was expecting-“

Isabel didn’t _really_ wait for whatever it was to finish talking. In fact, conscious thought didn’t really apply for the next few seconds, not when instinct and training were concerned anyway. Isabel supposed that, in a more civilized setting, she may have gone and clarified whoever was talking, but in a semi-hostile environment such as this, that wasn’t exactly high on her list of priorities for the moment.

The mage’s computation device whirred, magic passing into her knife as Isabel’s muscle memory, irritability and sleep deprivation guided her hand. A flick of her wrist sent the blade in the direction of the smug voice, the velocity of her throw more similar to a gunshot than any similar effort committed by human hands. A thin string of cerulean energy cut into the air, intent on passing through anything in its path, only to suddenly disappear in midair. The voice spoke as soon as it was gone.

“Woah, woah.” The voice chuckled. “A bit high-strung aren’t you?”

“Honestly, I can understand the appeal of the whole ‘Interrupt people while they’re distracted and do that whole dramatic speech thing from on high’.” Isabel drawled, her voice filled with a confidence she did not at all feel in the moment. “But really, I’m way too tired, and way too strung up on caffeine, to play that game right now. So, could you just- just get out here where we can see you, please?”

There was a pause, the voice seemingly processing Isabel’s words, before the silence was broken by a sudden laugh. “Oh yeah! You lot can’t see me, can you?“

The laughter was short lived this time, the noise quickly replaced by a string of iridescent light ahead of her. Stillborn flames frozen in time, shaping themselves into the symbols and patterns of a long dead language, distorting the air as the world shifted around them. The world around the runes shifted and bled, shadows fleeing away from the light to reveal a meter-long circle with which lay a familiar figure. A man in blue, amused eyes studying the mercenaries, as he played with Isabel’s blade.

“Hey there.” Lancer grinned, a playful tilt in his posture. “Sorry about that. Forgot all about your boss’s protections in this place. A real piece of work that.“

Isabel sighed. The Chancellor hadn’t actually told her that the Servant was Lancer of course, but judging from the story regarding her duel with him, Isabel considered his identity as the Lancer of the war to be pretty certain, all things considered. The Priest had given her a general idea about the state of the Holy Grail War, as well as the forms the Servants could take, so she wasn’t _completely_ blind about all that. Only mostly blind.

“Oh hey, it’s the blue guy.” Morrison called out, her voice turned light and flirty. Isabel found herself sighing again, even as she used Lancer’s deformation of the surrounding illusion as new orientation from which to adjust her climb. Like some blueberry north star. “Watcha doin over there?”

Lancer grinned, subsequently leaning to the side of the railing, eyes studying their general direction. “Oh, nothing in particular really. I thought I’d just drop by, see how all of you were doing. My own boss is otherwise occupied right now, and since I refuse to spend any amount of time in this city bored, I wanted to see how all of you were handling the climb.”

Already, Isabel could feel the beginning of a headache coming along. It was way, way, way too early in the day to be dealing with this man, even if it _was_ the afternoon by now. Time flowed strangely in the Tower, now that they’d spent the entire bloody morning climbing it, and if she _had_ to entertain the spirit of some long dead hero she wasn’t about to do it without at _least_ another three hours of uninterrupted napping.

Which wasn’t to say that the rest of her squad had that same limitation. She could hear Morrison’s pace quicken as she took point behind her, just a tad too energetic for her liking. Her number two always had a thing for poking at new people until they stopped interesting her, and Isabel suspected that the Servant wasn’t someone disinclined to poking back. Facial expressions weren’t exactly something she could see what with the masks and the invisibility and all that, but she didn’t _need_ to see Morrison’s face to note her interest.

“Boss- the girl right, the injured one? You’re like Miss Sioux right, some specialist brought in for the operation?” Morrison noted, curiosity in her tone. Unlike before, Lancer didn’t carry his eponymous weapon on him, standing at a much more casual stance. The only weapon he really had was Isabel’s knife, firmly in the man’s grasp, as he casually played with the blade, a lazy smile on his face.

“Sioux? Ah right, her.” Lancer drawled, his feigning forgetfulness. “Yeah, I suppose you could call me a specialist. It’s not exactly right, but its not exactly wrong either.”

“Yes well, I’m glad you’re not confused on what you are exactly.” Isabel interrupted, only to find Morrison’s irritated nudge at her side in response. She didn’t particularly care, and carried on. “So as you can see, we’re very much okay, all is well and all that, so you can go home now. Everything’s alright here.”

Lancer didn’t seem to think so, and whether it was something in her words or the way she said it out or whatever else, his interest only seemed piqued. “Well, no, not exactly. I haven’t actually seen the whole lot of ya yet, and I think all of you deserve a break. The spell I cast should have neutralized your boss’s illusions around this place, so you’d be safe around me for the moment.”

That, more than anything, seemed to settle any doubts Morrison had. She broke formation, walking ahead of Isabel until she reached the Lancer’s side. The moment she entered Lancer’s zone, the illusion around her dissipated, revealing her to the world. It was a bit disconcerting to see her friend hovering over what should have been a regular looking hallway, but at this point she had bigger fish to fry.

“See, what’d I say. Safe and sound.” Lancer winked at Morrison, only to get a thumbs up in return. Isabel and Three came up behind her shortly thereafter, their forms reasserting themselves in the Servant’s light as they grew close.

“What kind of magic is that, anyway?” Three asked curiously as he glanced around himself. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Actually, yeah.” Morrison nodded, glancing up at Lancer in what Isabel imagined was a flirtatious look if not for the helm of her tactical suit being in the way. “What was up with the writing in mid-air? It looked pretty cool.”

Lancer grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on the wall. “Oh, it’s nothing special. Just uh, magic that a teacher of mine showed me, way back in my homeland.’

“Your home, huh? You from the Eire, Mister? I could tell from the accent.”

‘Mister’. God, she had to put a handle on this quick before she started calling him ‘Daddy’ too. “Anyway, as you can see, we’re doing quite fine here. You can go back to your boss and tell her we’re all doing fine, or just go to one of the other groups and bother them instead. I hear that Fang’s squad is a bit above us, maybe six floors up? I’m pretty sure you can catch them before they hit the top if you hurry.”

Morrison turned, giving her a stink eye that Isabel studiously ignored, even as Lancer turned away from her friend and settled his attention on her. There was a calculation in his eyes, as though he was studying her, and she was about to comment on it before his lips turned into a wide grin and the Servant snapped his fingers.

“Oh yeah! You were the girl last night! The one with your boss, outside the church, right?”

The irritation she’d been feeling vanished in an instant as Isabel tried very, very, very hard not to let any sort of reaction through. Morrison turned around, confusion evident, as Lancer snapped his fingers again in triumph.

“Yeah you are, aren’t you?” He grinned. “I was wondering what a girl like you was doing all alone at night with her. Of course, I wasn’t at the Church myself, so who knows what you two were up to in there, but your boss seemed rather protective of you then. I wonder why?”

 _“The Church? Boss- Isabel Laverne, did you finesse a date with Sioux out of last night’s debacle?!?”_ Morrison gasped, equal parts outrage and delight. _“How could you! I thought we were friends, why didn’t you tell me!?!”_

“Well I wouldn’t know.” Isabel shrugged, ignoring her friend. “Though I don’t think I saw you there either. Were you, by chance, peeping on us, sir?”

If her friend had been gleeful before, now she was outright gaping, her gaze straight towards Isabel as Lancer quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh? Was there something interesting enough for me to be uh, peeping at? It didn’t seem all that eventful, with the two of you just walking side by side all sweet like that.”

Suddenly, unbidden, Isabel remembered the events of the night before. The Church had not been a particularly cozy area, in fact she would have described is as dark and ominous, though maybe that was just the fact it was a church in the first place. It had been right after she’d been given the summary of what the war entailed, with the red haired boy and surly girl still talking to each other. Scratch that, less talking with each other and more the girl arguing with the boy as he desperately tried to defend himself.

The Priest had turned to her then, dark eyes staring at her through the gloom of the church, an amused smile on his face.

 _“She trusts you, you know.”_ He had remarked, a dark gleam in his eyes, barely visible by candlelight. _“Oh, trust is perhaps too strong a word for the likes of her, but she believes you to be competent, which is rather more than most can say.”_

Isabel hadn’t bothered responding, though the Priest didn’t seem to care that his conversation partner had no intention of talking back. He merely continued.

_“Trust is such a dangerous thing, you see. We put so much stock in it, with the presumption that another would want or even care for it, when all along it is one of the more insidious of the chains that bind us, wouldn’t you say? That we must earn one another’s trust, that we must ensure we are trustworthy, even as that forces us into acts and situations we might rather not have done.”_

_“What are you going on about?”_ Isabel had remembered saying, before she could really stop herself. The Priest had smiled, as though her interruption was permissible, even preferable.

 _“I’m going on about nothing, Isabel Laverne.”_ The Priest had said, though she never recalled giving him her name. _“I am merely reminiscing aloud, of times past and darker days than these.”_

Isabel paused for a moment, thinking her words through, even as her companions stood stock still, seemingly entranced by whatever it was they were looking at. Eventually, she spoke.

“I’m beginning to think, sir, that you randomly going about and looking us up wasn’t nearly as random as you say it was.”

Lancer shrugged. “Maybe luck’s just on my side. I’ve been trying to get your boss to tell me more about what happened last night, but she’s a stubborn sort, and I haven’t been able to really get anything else out of her. Actually, that’s not all that true either. I _should_ be asking her about it anyway, at least that’s why my own boss has told me to do, but it’s just too much fun playing with her that I get distracted and it slips my mind.”

“But then, I remembered that one of you lot were there, which greatly simplifies all this. So if you could just tell me what I want to know, I’ll be on my way, and all of you can go back to your little exercise.”

To the side, Isabel noted Morrison straightening up, a comparatively small gesture, but one Isabel understood perfect. She’d been there too after all, in that fight with Archer, observing the entire thing with the rest of her squad. She’d have known the importance of that fight, how unusual it was, and that if the Chancellor didn’t want Lancer to know anything of last night, then neither did they.

“There’s nothing _to_ talk about, sir. Miss Sioux just wanted to take a walk together was all.”

“While you were in full tac gear?” He noted idly, staring down at her. She shrugged.

“Miss Sioux’s definition of a walk out is rather brisk. I think we were over the pacific until she decided to head back.”

“It’s true.” Morrison nodded, with all the long-suffering patience of an elderly mother. “I had to wash out the salt in her hair, she smelled like fish for _hours_.’

There was a momentary silence after that, before Lancer broke out into a grin.

“Oh well, _that_ explains that then.” He shrugged, a casual flick of his wrist sending the knife into a lazy arc towards its owner. Isabel caught it swiftly from the air, unaided by any magic, and Lancer’s grin grew wider.

“I think I can see why Sioux is so interested in you lot. I suppose I shouldn’t mess with you all _that_ much, Tanya strikes me as a cold, motherly, type. I doubt she’d appreciate me butting in to her affairs.”

Isabel shrugged, sheathing her knife as she did. “Well at least you know that much. I wasn’t there for your duel, but I imagine she wouldn’t hesitate bringing you in for another round if you pissed her off sufficiently.”

The silence that followed was so thorough and all encompassing one could probably have heard a mouse squeak three floors down. Isabel turned, finding that Morrison and Three were looking at her, their faces obscured still, but shock still evident in their gaze. Lancer’s grin, impossibly, had only grown wider.

“Izy.” Morrison began, her voice taking on a strange, barely controlled, terribly excited, quality. “Who’s Tanya?”

Isabel blinked, uncomprehending, until her gaze jerked back to Lancer, who had abandoned dignity for the sake of a wolfish, howling, laughter that echoed across the halls with reckless abandon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: As it turns out, the battery on my phone died, and so my alarm failed to wake me in time and hence the late chapter. Apologies for that, I’ll be whipping my phone as punishment in response. It’s also a bit short, as far as these chapters go, but I’m much happier with this one. The next chapter is likely to be a big one.


	25. 3.4

3.4

There was a danger in studying conflicts of the past to prepare one for the present. Yes, it could be fun looking back towards the methods used by history’s winners and the mistakes of its losers, but one had to approach such things with a certain degree of objectivity and caution. Just because something was fun or interesting did not necessarily mean that it was _useful_.

It was a theme I’d noticed with military historians in the latter years of my reign; men and women who delighted in performing retrospective analyses on events that had occurred long before they were even born. Not that it was wrong of course, not in and of itself, but the persistent focus and near reverence for events and phenomena that, in the grand scheme of things, weren’t all that important in the long run, certainly was.

My little stalemate with Green in North Afrika was a great example of this. In certain military classrooms, there were some that had considered Green’s defense of the North Afrikan front as one of the most underrated, greatest strategic maneuvers of the Great War. They believed that, by deliberately stalling my advance across the territory, a feat no one else had been capable of doing, Green had managed to accelerate the Empire’s demise. More specifically, these hacks posited that as I was tied up in the middle of the desert, Germanian High Command was unable to reposition me in other, more important, fronts. Thus, by tying me up in stalemate, I was unable to swing those theatres into the Empire’s favor.

Now, I want to be perfectly clear. It was my opinion that, both during and afterwards, Albion had been incompetent in their development of their own Mage groups. That Green was now getting the recognition he deserved after years of political stonewalling was wonderful news, if for no other reason than it highlighting the sycophantic, rotting, core that was Albion’s High Command at the time. Yes, Green was reasonably competent, enough so that I could use his defense of North Afrika as an excuse to _keep_ me in the region, and thus avoid all that bothersome bloodshed that came about in the Empire’s other fronts. Yes, Green’s handling and training of Albion’s mages on the front resulted in a sufficient degree of effectiveness on average that we were no longer mowing them down by the dozens in every engagement.

But to presume that a single person was capable of overturning the tide of a multicontinental war between rival superpowers? Armchair generalship of the highest, most idiotic, order. By the time I allowed myself to settle in North Afrika, the economic, logistic and strategic scope of the war had taken a downturn from which there was no feasible means of recovery. No single maneuver, no single person, would be sufficient to push against such a tide. To believe that a single individual was capable of influencing the ponderous machine that was the interplay between nation states was the height of hubris and narcissism. It was difficult enough fighting to do so when I had the vantage point of being the _Head_ of one of those nation states, what chance did one have when robbed of such an advantage, ground down and crushed by the merciless gears of bureaucratic inevitability?

Hence, the problem of reading through the past without understanding the context behind them. One was liable to pick and choose from disparate, enticing, exceptions in the pages of human endeavor while largely ignoring the entire product as a whole. In such a situation, one was more likely to search for those exceptions to justify one’s own worldview and stick to one’s guns about such things, never mind finding the truth of the matter. The sudden conquest of a territory by the execution of a glamorous, ingenious trick, enflames the imagination. However, without the necessary preparation and logistical support to pacify and secure such territory, then one’s gains would inevitably be lost when the state’s grip loosens around the area, thus amounting to a net loss regardless of how ‘inspiring’ such an act may be.

So, when looking upon the histories of the Holy Grail Wars, two things had to be constantly kept in mind.

The first, that it was written by the Tohsaka, and thus would neither be a completely objective account of what had occurred nor necessarily an accurate one. There was a non-zero chance that Rin had given me the books and resources that would only make her own side look good without properly reflecting on what mistakes they had made, never mind the fact that as a competitor of the war, they simply could not have possibly had complete knowledge about every single thing happening in the war in the first place. Even in a situation in which Rin was performing in good faith, she could not give me information that she did not have, and if one thing was clear in any war, not just the Holy Grail War, it was that information given over freely to the opposition was an advantage wasted. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Matou or the Tohsaka had preferred death over the betrayal of their secrets, if for no other reason than the maintenance of such secrets potentially tipping the balance for the next war.

The second, that no matter how impressive or promising any or all the actors involved in these wars may have been, they had all ultimately lost. They’d invested resources to this contest, had presumably applied themselves to the best of their ability, had failed to acquire the prize, and been subsequently lessened for it. Individuals were rewarded with death; entire Families were diminished in the effort to take the prize. The degradation of such resources, as well as information taken from Galliasta, was sufficient to paint the picture that all Three Families had likely dragged each other raw over this conflict. If anyone had the capability to win by this point, they already would have done so. As such, it was likely more useful to consider their history as something of a cautionary tale, or perhaps even an intellectual exercise. Taking strategies from the dead completely runs the risk I’d mentioned prior, the adoption of something that _seemed_ perfectly adequate at the expense of the context surrounding it. If such a strategy by itself was sufficient to win the war, it already would have happened by now. Their stories useful only up until that point, no further.

At least, what stories _could_ be found anyway.

“I can’t help but be somewhat disappointed, Rin.” I sighed. It was difficult to keep the frustration and disappointment out of my tone, several hours of delving into dusty, allergy-inducing, tomes had a markedly negative effect on my patience. “You’d think that two hundred years of information would have given us something of more….value, I suppose.”

Rin’s face, if nothing else, was a remarkably emotive thing. I wasn’t sure if embarrassment, outrage or irritation was the dominant emotion of the day, but it was certainly clear that she had a remarkable skill of depicting all of those emotions at the same time. “Value? The books in front of you are probably the most complete copy knowledge anyone has of the Matou and Einzberns outside of their own libraries-

“-knowledge that is more akin to something out of a scientific journal.” I interjected. “Highly technical information, which as I understand would be quite valuable to a magus seeking to understand or replicate such techniques, but are largely irrelevant to the information I require.”

She narrowed her eyes at that, and prior experience with willful women informed me that she was mentally digging her heels in. “And what, exactly, would be the information you require?”

“Information on their Servants.” I answer easily. “The strategies of what they did with those Servants, how the Matous handle their Servants versus how the Einzberns would handle theirs. I want to know what the Three Families did when put on the backfoot, what they would do when they believed they had the advantage, what they would do to maintain and secure such an advantage.”

My hand reached towards an ancient piece of parchment, the dissected diagram of a bulbous insect visible. “I can understand the value in identifying the skillset of the opposition, but after two hundred years of fighting one would expect that to have been set aside for other pieces of information. On the contrary, that seems to be the _only_ thing here; there are hardly any information regarding the Servants of the opposition in the first place, only the class with which the other combatants had summoned them in, but very little about their abilities and capabilities.”

The Master of Tohsaka sighed, and for a moment she seemed much younger, much more vulnerable, than the front she’d been practicing. “You have to understand, Tanya. The Magus families, not just of the three in this city but in the Clock Tower and beyond, are more similar to scientists than anything else, though even that isn’t quite an accurate description. It’s a Magus’s duty to safeguard the secrecy of their own mysteries, for that mystery to be known to another allows another Magus to understand that mystery, and thereby use that knowledge to disarm them. On the opposite side, that’s why a Magus family must constantly grow their own family’s mysteries beyond that of their predecessors. The information here may be out of date by more than a century, but the fact of the matter is, my ancestors likely recorded it anyway so that their descendants could extrapolate the powers of their rivals based off that outdated knowledge.”

I tapped my fingers onto the parchment. “And the lack of information regarding Servants?”

It was here that Rin became somewhat uncomfortable, and I narrowed my eyes. “W-well, not to be rude or anything Tanya, but the general view that most Magi would look towards Servants would be that of Familiars.”

I quirked my eyebrow at that, which caused more words to flow out of Rin’s mouth. “W-w-which means that, as far as the other families were concerned, your kind was largely a secondary concern. They’d see you as an extension of your Master, and any specific skillset or perspective would probably be seen as the result of your Master’s handling of a Servant more than anything else.”

“So you’re saying that they’d see me as an extension of my Master?” I considered softly, which somehow further alarmed Rin.

“I-its because of the class containers, I think.” She added in a rush, such that it was becoming somewhat difficult to keep up with her. “Since all Heroic Spirits are forced into specific classes, that means there’s a certain degree of predictability in what they can or can’t do. It’s a way to limit variance and unpredictability; there are hundreds, probably thousands, of unique Heroic Spirits. The effort to research and plan for each and every one isn’t something most people would do, and since Magi would focus on the Master in the first place, why bother? You’re not likely to ever see the Servant again, which is why we focus on researching the other families in the first plac-“

“Enough.” I said, raising my hand to forestall the word vomit coming out of her mouth. “I think I get it.”

And I did get it. Operating from her position, or rather from her family’s position, I likely would have done the same thing. It wasn’t as though the information they’d gathered on the other mages were particularly useless, it was simply information not particularly relevant for myself or for most other Servants. A Master was someone for us to neutralize, and if an opposing Master could operate at the same level as a Servant in the first place I doubted that we Heroic Spirits would even be here in the first place. If I’d been still alive, the creation of artificial humans that the Einzberns practiced, the entomological magic that the Matous apparently specialized in, would all be quite revolutionary if applied to society as a whole. The practical application of artificial humans alone, absent the ethical consideration regarding that, would be unimaginable by itself alone.

The additional note regarding the class structure also made sense. When the Masters involved in this war were cerebrally minded, inclined towards the identification and neutralization of an opponent’s mysteries, a Servant deliberately hobbled to fit into pre-designated forms would only facilitate that kind of tactical navel gazing. It indicated that the Masters of this war, at least those coming from families that were aware of or had participated in it in the past, saw Servants as a program or a tool. Something that could accept certain inputs, process them in predictable ways, and perform outputs that could be measured and responded to.

It was interesting insight that I doubted I would have gotten on my own. It shed a bit of light towards the Einzbern girl’s presumption and dominance over her Berserker despite the girl’s youth, as well as how Galliasta had very little qualms about allowing me to operate independently. If I considered his willingness to allow me a long reach to originate from some belief that I was a manipulatable tool instead of, as I had believed, some degree of professional courtesy, then I found myself hard pressed to be surprised at the revelation. I’d seen what the man was capable of after all, and a man willing and capable of sacrificing children for the pursuit of such short-term advantages was someone you could rely on to be calculating and sociopathic enough to consider me in such a way.

I suppose I should feel insulted that he saw me as a tool, but in truth I didn’t particularly mind. It wasn’t like I was operating in good faith after all, what with my work to undermine him and wrench myself from his grasp. Still, I had to consider the possibility that Rin was lying to me in this case. Sowing discord between a Master and his Servant was always a worthwhile plan, and I suppose that if I’d possessed a more concrete alliance with Galliasta then it would be far more effective than it actually was.

But then she didn’t _know_ he was my Master, did she? As far as she was aware, I was Isabel’s Servant, and she could possibly be trying to instill some doubt into that relationship. Well, that was fine as well really, and it wasn’t like she’d phrased her statement in such a way as to really insult me or my ‘Master’ anyway. Still, even an obligatory response was necessary in that case.

“I don’t think every Master would see their Servants in such a light.” I say diplomatically. “At the very least, you and Archer seem to enjoy a close partnership. I’m impressed really, it seems like an ideal relationship.”

Rin gave me a confused look, before she seemed to process my words and respond with a dry, scathing, laugh. “An ideal relationship? With _him_? The man that constantly irritates and pushes me, who’d rather play some childish prank on me than obey my orders? No thanks.”

The Tohsaka Master’s outburst, after having been embarrassed mere moments before, made it difficult to keep the smile off my face. Rin seemed to notice that momentary weakness, and smiled in triumph. Apparently, drawing forth a reaction from me was sufficient victory for the girl.

“So I see.” I said, finally, before quirking an eyebrow towards her. “Is this why you had him leave? Because he was irritating you?”

She harrumphed at that. “Among other things. I also had him go and get groceries. He _claims_ he’s a good cook, but considering his track record, I just find that hard to believe. He’ll be working to earn my forgiveness later, and if it turns out he’s lied about making a ‘fantastic’ dinner, then I’ll have to find some other means of punishing him.”

I wasn’t entirely sure whether it had been his constant prickling towards his Master that had prompted such a vicious attitude towards him, but he had my condolences if nothing else. At the very least, his suffering was a useful note regarding his Master’s behavior, in that I could learn from his mistakes and avoid the pitfalls that he seemed so willing to stumble into. Perhaps he had a death wish?

“I wish you good luck with that endeavor.” I say, before turning back towards the mountain of tomes she’d prepared for me. There was more to read through, it would probably take the better part of a week to skim through all this material even with a Servant’s constitution, but some of the topics were certainly more important than others. The primary concern had been any information on the Matous and the Einzberns, but barring that, the second most important topic was obvious.

Rin seemed to notice my gaze, and she gave an apologetic sigh. “I really am sorry about that though. Considering that my family helped start the ritual in the first place, a lot of information regarding the histories of the previous wars are rather empty.”

“It’s not entirely unreasonable.” I note, as my hand reached forward to open a nearby tome. “Two hundred years is a long time to maintain any continuous line of information, and there’s a non-zero possibility that some of the information was lost or damaged over the course of the wars. Still, while the information that _is_ here is sufficient to make something out of all this, it’s not nearly as much as I would have liked.”

My finger tapped on the ancient parchment. “The First War- or rather, the first Heaven’s Feel. Interesting in a historical sense perhaps, but completely irrelevant for our current situation.”

“It wasn’t even really a war, per se.” Rin sighed. “It was more of a test run than anything else. Servants were summoned, but the Masters involved in the war didn’t even have command spells at that juncture, so it was impossible to force their obedience and participation in the war. The situation hadn’t become nearly so bad for the Three Families to be at each other’s throats yet, so full scale combat didn’t really occur either. No one died, and the ritual ended in a failure, but the disagreements here lay the seed for the second war-“

“Wherein everyone was slaughtered.” I noted grimly. “Open warfare, with the use of magus techniques and the participation of those that had assisted in the First War or those that had been privy to it in the intervening years. Everyone had sixty years of preparation and no rules restraining their behavior. The end result was predictable, and the wounds the Families endured during that conflict ensured that collaboration for any subsequent ritual was impossible.”

It was as unfortunate as it was pathetic, really. War was the means of last resort, wherein diplomacy, compromise and economic incentives failed and the rule of instinct, violence and survival of the fittest became ascendant. Those seven individuals had power and opportunity in their grasp, the chance for a better future, and pissed it all away with violent tribalism and rampant paranoia. If there was a singular example I could point to with which to declare that man was a brutish, idiotic, base creature then this was it. Whether magi or mage or just base human, it hardly mattered when we all operated with the same idiocy as our cave-dwelling ancestors millennia prior.

Rin seemed particularly morose as I outlined the events of the Second War, which I found rather surprising. Didn’t she know? The books were in her library, all she had to do was parse through it to realize the failures that were her ancestors. Or perhaps she already knew, but found it uncomfortable to talk about it? Regardless of the fact, I pushed on. Better to speak now than let her stew in whatever it was that she was thinking.

“As a result of that slaughter, information on the Second War is fragmented at best and completely absent at worst. As far as the Tohsaka were concerned, all that’s noted is that their Servant for this iteration of the war was a Caster-“

“Well you try interrogating the dead for information, Chancellor.” Rin groused, her mood obviously soured. “It’s not as easy as you’d think.”

I waved my hand away. “That wasn’t my point. The point was that this was the war that convinced the other Families to involve the Church, to invoke rules and allow a supervisor present so that all out warfare of that kind would never occur again. A fair enough adjustment of the terms of engagement; if the Tohsaka couldn’t recover anything from the war’s aftermath, then I doubted the other Families could either. That everyone died is disappointing, but given the circumstances, not at all surprising.”

Rin shook her head. “It was more than just that. Up until the Second War, Heaven’s Feel had been completely secret, no one outside the Three Families and their chosen collaborators knew anything about the war. The aftermath of the Second War was large enough that Magus Association agents had been sent to pacify the locals. A cover story was made of some rebellion to pacify the government, and part of the deal reached with the Church was to limit the spread of Heaven’s Feel to the Clock Tower. It worked, to a degree, but some information leaked anyway to certain families.”

I flipped the tome, coming to a bookmarked section and tapping my finger against the parchment. “Which lead to the Third War, which marked the first time that magus families participated in the war without the direct invitation of the Three Families, including this Edelfelt family you hate so much.”

The girl sniffed at my words, the dark mood from earlier lit up by what I could only guess was irritation. “I don’t hate the Edelfelt family, I hate a very particular _member_ of the Edelfelt family, that’s all.”

“Unless the Edelfelts were involved in the Fourth War, which we don’t know since Kotomine still holds onto those records, I find it hard to imagine what any one person did seventy years ago that could warrant such disdain.” I remarked dryly.

Rin gave me a dirty glare, before turning away. “When my Father died, Kotomine Kirei became my guardian as well as the legal steward of the Tohsaka fortune until I became of age. But _apparently_ , that was just too much work for that man, so he tried to foster me off to the Edelfelts during the interim.”

I blinked, and the curiosity in my gaze managed to irritate her even further.

“Never you mind _why_.” She hissed, seemingly reading my mind. “The head of the Family was cold, but kind enough, but after meeting that _snake of a girl_ that was the Edelfelt heir I arranged an accident that had me sent back to Fuyuki.”

Despite what must have been a shockingly precocious act of sabotage from what should have been a prepubescent girl at the time, Rin seemed quite pleased with herself. Smug really. Whatever had happened between her and the Edelfelt heir seemed sufficient to get her goat up even more than talking about Archer, so I decided to steer clear of the subject and look back to the tome.

“Besides the Edelfelt, information on the rest of the participants are much more vague.” I noted as I skimmed through the tome. “The Einzberns were knocked out of the war early, the Matous had an early advantage that they wasted, the Master of Assassin was removed from play by Rider and-“

I paused, leaning closer to the tome to read the faded script. I would have preferred getting somewhat closer to it, but the damn thing was still so suffused with dust it was rather irritating to the senses. Rin noted my pause, turning to my head in askance, and it took me a few moments before I continued.

“And the Master of Lancer, Darnic Prestone, brought paramilitary forces in the middle of the war in an effort to decapitate the Matou alliance.” I finished, voice thoughtful. “How ingenious.”

It was rather appealing, that someone had, at some point prior myself, looked around to this conflict and thought to themselves that nothing in the rules _explicitly_ forbade the use of outside resources to secure the Grail. The fact that the rules had yet to be amended to take that into consideration was rather remarkable, all things considered. Almost tacit approval from the Holy Church that such action was permissible, though if that strategy _was_ capable of being used, I had to wonder why none of the other Families made use of it. At the very least, if I had to defend myself to the Priest, I could use the Third War as prior precedent.

If anything, though, the look on Rin’s face told me that such a strategy was nowhere _near_ appealing to her. In actuality, the look on Rin’s face was _immensely_ amusing. I might as well have told her that Darnic had participated in the war by utilizing human sacrifice for all the contempt that it seemed to inspire in her.

“There’s nothing _ingenious_ about it!” She growled, staring at the page with such disdain that I feared the book might burst into flame. “It’s cowardly and contemptible! The point of the War was to identify whoever was most worthy to hold the Grail, not whoever could do the most damage or be the most savage doing it!”

I merely shrugged. That was certainly one way of seeing it, though idealism and naivety of that degree was rather surprising coming from her. I wasn’t about to correct her in that though, for all that she was near allied with me, we still weren’t _quite_ comrades. If things were to sour between us, naivete of that degree was a fairly exploitable weakness. “Leaving aside the question of whether it was ‘proper’ or not, it was certainly a novel idea. Something to take note of, should one of the other members of the opposition do the same.”

“’Proper or not’, what was clear was that he didn’t even have the guts to fight the war with the proper decorum expected of a magus.” Rin muttered, eyes rapidly reading along the passage regarding him. “It said here that he was defeated by that war’s Assassin, so I’m glad he got what was coming to him. I’m surprised though, a guy like that with the temerity to flout the war’s laws like that, I’d have expected to have heard of him.”

I’d have been surprised if she _had_ heard of him honestly. Darnic Prestone had been a fairly modest figure, though perhaps he was modest to a fault, considering that he’d never reported about the Holy Grail War or the fact that he’d supposedly ‘died’ years prior his joining the Ministry of Applied Paraphysics. He and his family had been instrumental in the development of certain breakthroughs in faster and more efficient computation devices, among other contributions from him and other talented mages. Though considering his supposed roots, I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not _mage_ was an appropriate appellation for him and his kind.

If not for the fact that I was waist deep in my own problems, I imagine that I’d have followed up on this interesting little factoid on my own time. Considering the impracticality of that however, I simply set it aside as something to chew on for later.

I rose from my seat, and I fancied my body creaking from the hours I’d just spent ensorcelled in the, admittedly quite comfortable, seat that Rin had prepared. I appreciated her effort of course, but regardless of appearances I was a Servant; I had no real excuse to wallow in decadence when I could be _doing_ something with the time I’d been given. “Well, this has certainly been an interesting few hours, and you’ve given me quite a lot to think about. But it’s about time for me to leave.”

She blinked at that, turning away from her study of Prestone and back to me, eyes wide and baby lambish. “You’re going already?”

I shook my head. “Unfortunately. I have some prior arrangements, though rest assured, I and my Master will honor the bounds of the agreement you outlined. We may not necessarily be allies, but I don’t see why we have to be on opposite sides on this.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how I could convince my Master to follow through with the agreement, but I was sure I could think of something. Allying with one of the Three Families was an advantage I’d rather we possessed than we didn’t, and I was willing to make an effort to preserve such an advantage. In the worst-case scenario that Galliasta was intent to obliterate the Tohsaka, I could simply stay quiet regarding the alliance. It would give me the freedom necessary by which I could act, rather than clueing in my Master to the fact that I was slowly inching out of his grasp.

Rin spoke out, her attention fully on me now. “Well, how about you just stay for dinner? Archer told me that he could prepare daifuki mochi, and I wanted to test his ability to do so. I’m sure he can prepare some for both of us.”

Despite myself, and the fact that I didn’t really _need_ to eat anymore, the mention of mochi to dinner had my mouth watering. For a moment I felt an impulse to yield to her request, before the mental image of my little doppelganger waiting patiently in the snow, and the doubtlessly unfortunate consequences of breaking my word to the Einzbern Family, brought me back to my senses.

“I’m truly sorry, really I am.” I sighed. “But this matter truly can’t wait.”

The forlorn look from the girl’s face seemed so disappointed and heartrending that I couldn’t help but curse myself out for my weakness. Honestly, what was wrong with me? I couldn’t even say no to a little girl anymore without erupting into conniptions.

“We can have dinner some other time.” I ultimately conceded with a sigh. “As long as you bring some mochi, anyway.”

The change in Rin’s mood was instantaneous and rather frightening, all things considered. The girl nodded, smiling, before standing up as well.

“I’ll walk you out.” She declared, in a happy little tone that brooked no defiance. “At least until you leave Miyama Town. I’ll just go get my coat-“

For a moment, I felt that I had to protest somehow. That walking me out wasn’t at all necessary, and I could find my way out completely adequately on my own thank you very much. But then the moment was gone, and all I could see was Rin’s back going off into the distance.

I sighed, before collapsing back into the chair. While her attention was certainly encouraging as far as the likelihood of an alliance went, the girl was certainly persistent, if nothing else, I had a sinking feeling that the girl's persistence was more likely to grind me down more than anything else this war seemed willing to throw at me so far.

* * *

I’d been given the location of each and every one of the cameras that the Tresillo had installed around the area, which made it child’s play avoiding them all in the first place. I’d made sure not to inform Galliasta of the fact that I was going to be speaking with Tohsaka or Einzbern today, for obvious reasons, and so I had no intention of giving the game away by him finding a video of me walking side by side with Rin Tohsaka.

The odds of that happening are, admittedly, quite low. Nonetheless I was never particularly inclined towards risky behavior, so given my current situation I would have been inclined towards doing the safe thing and dissipating once I stepped out of the Tohsaka household and its curiously active barrier. Unfortunately, what with Rin’s insistence on walking me out of her territory, I had to select a fairly circumspect route out of the area.

Rin seemed like a capable, intelligent, young woman; if she’d insisted on walking me home, there was a strong possibility that she’d done so for a reason. Perhaps she wished to speak with me about something outside of the Manor, or perhaps she’d wished to put the both of us into a situation wherein Archer couldn’t possibly interfere. That in and of itself was a potential concern, Archer didn’t seem to care all that much about the sanctity of the Master-Servant relationship, and I could very much see him denying any and all privacy towards his Master for nothing less than the knowledge that it would irritate her.

It would be incredibly convenient if the reason Rin wished to walk me home was for her to offer me to be her Servant. It would have been gratifying to know that all it really took to accomplish such an objective was an afternoon of concentrated effort. If only every other problem in my life had been so easy.

However, I didn’t believe my luck was anywhere _that_ good, so I contented myself with walking alongside her. She’d speak on the matter eventually, I was sure, and I’d know the purpose of all this when it happened. Until then, I kept my gaze to the sky and to the streets; there was the potential danger that an enemy Servant would take this opportunity to strike out at her, and I could absolutely not allow any harm to befall her in such a situation. It would be a poor showing on my part, if Rin had decided to hitch her wagon with mine, only for me to screw it up with my own incompetence.

“I have a question, Tanya.”

My concentration slipped, and I turned towards Rin. She seemed calmer now, more composed, compared to how she’d been back at her manor. I suppose that was only fair, she was secure there, more able to let down her guard, whereas now she was more open to danger, especially without her Servant standing by her. Despite that, she carried herself well, and she looked at me with curious, guileless, eyes that seemed almost to beg for my response. I nodded for her to proceed, and she allowed herself a small smile.

“What was it like, when you took over?”

I blinked at that. What an odd question. “What do you mean?”

She grimaced for a moment before pressing on. “When Germania elected you, and you were given responsibility for the entire state, what was it like? How did it feel?”

I studied her again, frowning at her attention and the strange direction her question had led her to. Nonetheless, I had no reason to answer dishonestly, so I didn’t.

“I thought the world had gone mad.” I shrugged, my gaze leaving the girl in favor of our surroundings. There was a glimmer of a response from the girl, perhaps the twitch of an ear, but nothing more as I continued. “I was about….I don’t know, not even my twenties yet? Or if I was, then my early twenties. The specific year didn’t really matter, in the long run, but the fact of the matter was that I was just so _young_. By all accounts I shouldn’t have even won, it shouldn’t have even been close, and yet I had. So, given the responsibilities afforded to my station, and lacking any other alternative, I chose to serve as best as I could with the tools that I was given.”

“And in so doing became the most powerful woman in the world.” She remarked idly. I snorted at that, waving my hand at her assertion.

“Hardly. If a title was all that was necessary to denote power then others would have fashioned those titles upon their own station long before they were thrust upon me. Things like Chancellor or Kaiserin or President or Prime Minister, they’re all just words, given only as much importance as people believe they are important. If I was just a pretty face and an empty head, I wouldn’t have gone as far as I did, nor would the people have allowed me to rule over them as they did.”

She was quiet at that, and despite myself I felt a twinge of sympathy at that. I can only imagine that she was asking me that due to some deeply buried concern regarding her own position. She was to be the heir of her family, a position of doubtlessly significant responsibility, and she didn’t even have the benefit of her parents to guide her or pattern herself over. In fact, presuming that history remained consistent, it was likely that her father had died during the Fourth War. That would, doubtlessly, be a traumatizing experience.

In a situation like this, I imagined that I should give her advice I would have wanted to hear when I’d been in her position, right after winning the election. Of course, such an idea fell flat primarily due to the fact that I doubted whatever advice I would have wanted wasn’t exactly useful to her. As much as my life in this appeared to be that of a young girl, it most assuredly was not and had not. My ability to empathize meaningfully to Rin's situation was rather shot as a consequence.

In the end, I had no useful advice to give, no life altering insight to offer. All I had were my sympathies.

“It’ll be hard at first.” I said aloud, drawing her attention once more. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, better than I would have given your situation. I’m sure you’ll be alright, once this all blows over.”

Rin chuckled, and it was the most humorless chuckle I’d ever heard from her. “I don’t know about that. But thank you for saying so.”

I turned to her again, confused, but before I could focus my attention on her, she shook her head. She pressed her hand into mine, finding with some concern that her fingers were shockingly cold. I narrowed my eyes, studying her, and in a moment of realization I figured out why she was acting so oddly. She was afraid.

Before I could figure out what had caused her distress, I felt a presence at the very limit of my senses, an unmistakable existence that caused me to abandon my façade. A flash of cerulean energy shrouded my form and a moment later my clothing had been replaced with my uniform, coat and all. I moved closer towards Rin, stepping ahead and beside her as I scanned through the streets and roads, searching for something amiss. For where the new threat was. I needn’t have bothered.

“Aww, what gave me away?”

I blinked at the feminine voice, a humorous, somewhat gentle, sound that seemed almost cheerful. It carried over the air remarkably well, such that I wasn’t entirely certain whether it had been amplified by magic or not. Rin didn't seem to care very much either way, walking slightly in front of me to face the woman.

“I have my secrets.” She shrugged, gazing out into the street, colder and more distant than I’d ever seen her. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to do this properly, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped sulking in the dark and come out where we can see you.”

At Rin’s words, a figure stepped out from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. A young girl, dressed in dark grey and black, about as tall as Rin and as outwardly friendly as the other magus was cold. The dress she wore was remarkably simple, though coming from my recent experience in identifying clothing with Galliasta’s girls, I could tell that the dress itself was constructed from remarkably fine material. Her hair was purple with strands of silver white accentuating the whole, the mass strung into a ponytail with a single red ribbon. Her gaze seemed warm and welcoming, and as soon as she knew we’d spotted her, she dropped into a mild curtsy.

“You always were a stickler for the rules.” The girl noted wryly, which caused Rin to narrow her eyes. “Still, I suppose we should do things properly. Greetings, Tohsaka Rin, Heir of the Tohsaka.”

Rin’s curtsy was much more mechanical, much more stiff, though she kept her eyes on the purple haired girl the entire time. “Greetings, Matou Sakura, Heir of the Matou.”

Ah. Ah this was bad, this was very, very, bad. My eyes studied our surroundings, not so much focused on the presence I’d detected earlier, as the things I hadn’t seen yet. If the girl was the Matou Master, then that meant the Matou familiars were nearby as well. I didn’t imagine that those insects would greatly impede Rin if worst comes to worst, but with an opposing Master here and her Servant undoubtedly nearby, it wasn’t going to be easy either.

Matou gave a gentle smile. “I’m sorry about catching you both like this. You know, I was _just_ on the way home, Tohsaka-senpai. I was kind of nervous actually, it’s been ages since we last talked, so I was worried that I was being rude or inappropriate going to you. Especially with the war going on and all that.”

Matou turned over to me, before gracing me with a smile. “Then again, you always _did_ aim for the best, didn’t you? I shouldn’t have worried. It’s a pleasure meeting your acquaintance, Chancellor Degurechaff.”

Despite the severity of the moment, I couldn’t help but sigh. Of course, she knew who I was, how could I possibly have imagined it to be otherwise? “Likewise, Miss Matou.”

Matou clapped her hands in what seemed to be delight. “Wonderful. Now that we’re all here, I’d like to have a chat. It’s just a simple matter, it shouldn’t take too long but it is really rather important-“

“I doubt that.”

The sheer tone, the coldness of her words, was so alien to me that I couldn’t help but double check that Rin had actually said it. Matou didn’t seem to need any convincing however, and merely pouted cutely at Rin.

“Oh, don’t be like that Tohsaka-senpai.” She mewled. “It’s to do with Emiya-senpai after all-“

“I don’t care about that brat, or what it is he’s been up to ever since becoming the Seventh.” Rin drawled, achieving a fairly masterful grasp on the subject of casual arrogance. “You can have him for all I care, though I doubt he’d be all that useful to you.”

“Oh. I see.”

Something about Matou’s words sent a tingle in my spine, and I couldn’t help but note the danger of the situation. That the Matou had made herself known now, while both Rin and I were no longer in a defensible position, spoke more to the girl’s intent than any words she was likely to say. It was night now, or close enough to it that open conflict was now on the table; if the girl had simply wanted to talk with Rin, then she would have done it before bloody nightfall.

Matou seemed deep in thought, eyes glinting in the soft fluorescent lights around us, before looking back up to the both of us. “You know what happened last night didn’t you? At Senpai’s home?”

Rin rolled her eyes. “I may or may not, you’re really going to have to be more specific-“

“Don’t play _games_ with me, Rin! Not with him!”

Matou’s words were harsh and cruel, filled with a manic sort of urgency that I found disconcerting. Even Rin seemed taken aback at the girl’s words, and for a moment, I saw her mask fall, a degree of concern and something else in her eyes that was quickly overcome by her mask.

For a moment no one spoke, until Sakura sighed in frustration, her tone more akin to earlier.

“It seems clear to me that you’re not really willing to talk about this, Tohsaka-senpai.” She observed. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but if you’re not willing to talk with your Servant protecting you, then we’ll just have to neutralize that for now.”

At her words that _presence_ shifted, the darkness of a nearby alley revealing a child in leather armor and a cape far, far, too large for him. His eyes were wide and wild, excitement evident as he closed the distance and swiped a sword at my head. A twitch of my will and I dodged out of his blow, the shockwave of both my movement and the other Servant’s strike causing a gust of wind to envelop the surrounding area.

The entire time, neither Matou nor Tohsaka blinked, their eyes set straight ahead towards the other.


	26. 3.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tanya faces off against the Matou Servant, a boy that seems to know more about her than one would expect.

3.5

There was a brief moment in time, as the enemy Servant’s blade raced for my neck, that I had a moment to reflect on how everything had gone to hell so quickly. More specifically, I had time to reflect that this was all my fault.

For all the effort that I’ve committed towards this war, I had gotten sloppy and arrogant. That I’d made contact with the Einzbern and Tohsaka contingent of the war was all well and good, but the fact that I’d not focused my efforts on uncovering what the Matou were up to was a failure of the highest order. It was not as though this war would stop for me alone, not as though the other competitors of this war would refrain from making proactive moves as the days went by and their opposition began to dig in for a long siege. Of course one of the Three Families would make a move soon, and given the other players on the field, it was inevitable that they would eventually make a play against either the Tohsaka or the Einzbern. 

I’d focused on history, when I should have been focusing on the present. Instead of wanting to figure out what exactly had occurred in the long distant past, I should have asked for information regarding the Matou Master. Considering the rivalry between all three Families, it was only a given that Tohsaka would know who the enemy was. She’d have been able to give me information, ideas, strategies, something. Instead, I’d been blindsided by what looked to be a teenager, ambushed and engaged upon by her Servant while I’d been caught with my metaphorical pants down.

I was angry. Disgusted with myself really. Thankfully, there was a nearby target for me to unload that frustration on.

The Servant had struck high, the sudden velocity of his run towards me imbuing him with the necessary velocity to leap towards me for a vicious, if not particularly controlled, cut for my neck. This, in and of itself, was not a significant problem; his attack had been foreshadowed sufficiently by both his master and subsequent approach towards me that I could move aside at my leisure. What was a problem was that at his current velocity, moving out of the way would put Rin in danger, either from the strike itself impacting her or for the Servant to smash into her body as I moved away. Staying in place and absorbing the blow wasn’t a viable option either; though his stature was small, physical size had very little to do with a Servant’s potential strength. If I held my ground, only for that sword of his to penetrate whatever defense I could muster, then that would simply result in both Rin and I dying uselessly.

That was the initial, instinctual, reaction anyway- not necessarily the best option in the given scenario. It was clear from Matou’s statements that she presumed I was Rin’s Servant, her demand to speak with Rin required that I was removed from play while maintaining the Tohsaka Heiress’s presence on the field. Which meant that Matou valued Rin’s presence as something more than an obstacle to be removed. After all, if all the enemy Master wished for was Rin’s death, then they could have simply struck hard and fast while we were unaware, instead of taking the time to engage her in conversation and then engage us in combat when Matou became aggravated with the current situation.

As such, there was credit to the idea of simply allowing the enemy to continue his assault. There was some degree of doubt on whether or not Matou would allow Rin to be eliminated outright if I were to simply move away and allow the other Servant’s strike to land, but even if she did wish Rin dead then it wouldn’t matter. Rin was not my Master, at least not yet, and so her death would not diminish my combat effectiveness while potentially leading to a moment of surprise that I could utilize as leverage to turn this fight to my favor. Matou expected me to be Rin’s Servant, and so the logical thing for a Servant to do was to defend their Master with their lives, instead of doing anything particularly proactive at the expense of their Master’s wellbeing.

For example, if I were to move right now, as quickly as I could, past the enemy Servant and straight towards Matou, I believe that there would be decent odds for me to neutralize or kill her. The magi evidently expected to engage each other in some melodramatic duel, presuming that Matou and Tohsaka staring at each like this was any indication. By neutralizing Matou, I could remove one of the Three Families from contention in a single strike. If I moved quickly enough, cleanly enough, I could hopefully kill Matou swiftly enough that her Servant would be unable to constitute a major threat thereafter.

Even better, any injury Rin would sustain during this fight would result in a net benefit. Yes, it would likely result in a notable loss of trust between myself and Rin, but if I was operating to maximize my tactical gains here it wouldn’t matter. Archer was still missing, and I could simply kill Rin in the aftermath, thus removing two Families from the war in a single decapitating strike. Being an Archer, there was the possibility of him surviving for a certain period of time after his Master’s death as compared to other Servant classes, but I’d proven that I was able to contain him to some degree even with the Tohsaka heiress’s mana reserves powering him. Handling him with a fraction of his power would be well within reasonable expectations.

Completely rational, completely objective. In my youth, I could certainly see myself committing to such an action without doubt nor restraint.

The Servant’s blade rushed dangerously close to my throat, and cerulean lightning heralded my steps as I took a few steps back and to the side, such that the child’s arm was now between the two of us. The sheer energy behind his strike was a fearsome thing, wind buffeting my coat in the wind, a maelstrom born in a single moment. Untamed and uncontrolled, it spoke greatly to the Servant’s sheer potential in power, though I paid it no mind. The young were often focused on the moment, incapable of seeing past the next three steps, nevermind the outcome of a war.

Gloved hands reached out, one hand securing a firm lock onto the boy’s wrist, a brief modifications towards the shields and kinetic dampeners native to my magecraft enclosing my hand and his wrist in a sort of protective shell. The other Servant responded of course, or at least would try to respond, but the danger of such an aggressive leap against an opponent was the loss of control of one’s momentum. His response was limited, insufficient to stop me, and a moment later my palm rushed forward towards his elbow with enough force to crumple steel.

The boy reacted swiftly and more intelligently than anticipated. Though I’d locked his wrist in place, the same was not true for his shoulder, and so he adjusted the structure of his arm such that I hit his bicep instead. The immediate impact of the blow buffeted the surrounding area with another shockwave, the sound of glass cracking evident in the ensuing tumult. Still, it was insufficient to disable the Servant and as he landed onto the road, rubble carved out from the ground, his blade dropped from one hand and into the other, freeing his weapon from my influence. I paid no heed to it, my knee already accelerating upward towards the boy’s body, velocity sufficient to cave in his ribcage and reduce what resistance he had to offer me.

But the boy reacted just as quickly. With his sword now on his free hand, he flickered the angle of the blade and redirected its edge to my oncoming knee. It’s silver edge glistened menacingly in the fluorescent light, and I had no faith in the durability of my shields to overcome the weight and sharpness of his blade. Instead, I shifted my momentum; instead of my knee aimed at his chest, it rushed upwards into the air, my legs rotating away from the blade to spiral up into the air. The twisting motion, in combination with my firm hold over his wrist, would have resembled something from a circus, my form essentially spinning around his arm in a display of breathtaking agility if not for the fact that I was cheating with my magic. Beyond avoiding his blade, it gave the additional benefit of twisting the offending limb into a pretzel, dislocating his elbow and turning it into so much shredded meat as the sudden shift in direction forced his magically encased wrist to follow.

Unfortunately, he surprised me yet again. Instead of holding his ground, the boy moved to match my new orientation, jumping into the air and spinning alongside me, his cloak twirling in the air as his own somewhat abrupt velocity arrived just in time to save his arm. From the corner of my vision I noted the telltale glint of steel rushing straight for me, the boy seemingly intent on carving me up despite the unusual position we were both in. I immediately disengaged, dissipating the hold I had over his wrist and withdrawing from his immediate striking range, my magic sending me several feet away from the enemy as I positioned myself between him and my ‘Master’.

To the boy’s credit, he compensated for my sudden disengagement remarkably well. His body continued spinning for a moment, bleeding away the excess kinetic energy from our fight, until he landed on the ground. There was some degree of elegance in the maneuver I had to admit, a natural comfort and skill in his body, the steel of his blade held just as confidently in his left hand as it was in his right. He was breathing heavily as he landed, a wide grin of delight on his face, a hunger and excitement in his eyes that somehow reminded me of Lancer. Even then, I was confident that I could press my advantage still, close the distance between us before he’d properly recovered from my counterattack, but I elected not to.

Of the remaining Servants I’d yet to identify in the War, only Rider and Assassin remained. While identifying Lancer or Archer had been fairly straightforward due to the nature of their fighting style, nothing he’d done so far had particularly inclined myself into thinking the boy as one or the other. If he was a Rider, he’d yet to reveal his mount and thus any unusual abilities he may possess as a result of that. He hadn’t seemed particularly quick or agile either, though his ability to think on his feet was rather remarkable. He seemed too flamboyant for me to imagine him as an assassin, but that could simply be a misdirection. Matou’s order to engage me in combat could have simply been code for him to appear to engage me, only to turn aside at the last moment and target my supposed ‘Master’ right behind me.

My gaze flickered over to the only humans left on the street. They remained where they were last I checked on them, with a few differences. Matou did not at all seem that surprised by the clash between Servants, merely looking at Rin with a kind of focused intensity that only bitter, intergenerational, rivalry between families could create. Rin matched the Matou’s gaze, no trace of the prior cheerfulness and emotional instability I’d noted from her even vaguely present. If I didn’t know better, I’d have imagined that both magi hadn’t even noticed the conflict between myself and the Matou Servant, a rather admirable degree of stoicism that I couldn’t help but applaud.

Rin seemed to realize that my gaze had settled on her, and she broke her staring match with Matou to give me a reassuring smile. It seemed to be a thankful, genuine, smile. The closest thing the Tohsaka Heiress could come to thanking me without exposing our ruse. I smiled back, a gesture that Rin appreciated as she turned back to her opponent with renewed vigor.

There’d been a significant, undeniable, problem with carrying out my strategy. If I were to kill the Matou and the Tohsaka here, then it transformed the Einzberns into the de facto super power of this war. The stability of the prior wars were built upon the enforced stalemate between all three families, which made them all, to some extent or another, predictable. With the elimination of their greatest rivals, the Einzbern Master would stray from the script of bitter rivalry between the Matou and the Tohsaka, likely moving to dominate the rest of the participants in the war and resulting in a greater degree of uncertainty as to what exactly she was going to do. More to the point, the sudden safety granted to the Einzberns by the defeat of their rivals would likely disincline the Einzbern Master to consider me as an alternative to her own Servant. After all, I’d essentially done most of the work for her while demanding compensation for it after the fact, not exactly an intelligent move so as to secure further employment. Then again, she’d be mad to trust me even if I did approach her, it would be difficult to trust someone responsible for the assassination of two different Masters, even if they were her enemies. Everything that Tohsaka had outlined about the other families seemed to suggest that they saw it as something like a game, wherein powerful mages could play with long dead heroes in a contest to the death with minimal repercussions to themselves. Killing Tohsaka and Matou would show what a pathetic illusion such a delusion was, and I doubted that Einzbern would accept me even if in the infinitesimally small odds that I’d manage to keep my role in their deaths quiet.

And news of my role in their deaths would leak out, eventually. Miyama Town was Tohsaka territory, meaning that if the Einzberns were intelligent, they’d have seeded this entire area with surveillance devices and, subsequently, would likely have seen me operating in the area. Even if their surveillance wouldn’t necessarily record this encounter, I couldn’t guarantee having dodged all their surveillance in the surrounding area. As long as they knew I’d been seen in the surrounding area, they could feasibly come to the conclusion that I was involved in some way or another. 

Then there was the matter of Archer. By merit of his own class advantage, he’d be able to manifest himself for a certain amount of time after his Master’s death, which would complicate any assassination attempt severely. If there was anything that conversation with him in the Tohsaka Manor had shown, it was that he was already suspicious of me to some degree. If his Master died while I was in her company, he would undoubtedly believe that I had something to do with it. If he were to aim his efforts so as to damage my prospects in this war as severely as he could, then I had no problem at all believing that he would run to the Einzberns and tell them everything he knew about me.

From there, game theory answered the rest. Bazett and Galliasta had an agreement, and the defeat of two of the families was nothing but good news, so their alliance would likely remain. Enzbern would be positioned against us, aware of my role in their deaths and identified as the most dangerous threat in the war, a Servant with little to no qualms about eliminating Masters. Such a disposition would likely push all other nonaligned Masters to the Einzbern’s side; Emiya had been close to Rin, and once Einzbern would inform Emiya of Rin’s murder, would doubtlessly side with the last remaining Family against me. His Servant would need little to no convincing of the necessity of it either, she’d probably relish it honestly. A predictable enough outcome, even if I had high doubts about my capability to neutralize both Berserker and Saber at the same time.

The last Servant was more difficult to pin down. I knew next to nothing about them or their Master, but some assumptions could be made on their actions regardless. At the best case scenario they would likely play the third party to the two of us, setting themselves as the kingmaker of this war and trying to influence the course of events as much to their advantage as possible. At the worst case scenario, they would likely side with the Einzberns, putting my side at a disadvantage.

The only positive side to this would be that my Master’s faith in me would be rewarded, and his continued support of me assured. But that wasn’t even a victory really; all I would have achieved by murdering Tohsaka and Matou would be to cement my position as Galliasta’s Servant for the rest of the war. Once news of what had occurred here would spread, no Master still alive in this war would possibly trust me as a replacement for their own Servant. I could imagine myself waging a conventional war against the other competitors with Lancer by my side, despite the fact that he was proving to be an irritating ally he was nonetheless a skilled warrior, but I couldn’t imagine actually winning the Grail for Galliasta.

I was not going to hand over the Holy Grail to a man willing to liquefy children. Absent any other consideration, it was ethically unacceptable to hand over such a device over to a man like Galliasta. Death would, perhaps, be a preferable option than that. He would have to use his command seals to force my obedience or, failing that, my suicide. It was an obvious dead end, an unpalatable conclusion to the war that I would avert by any means necessary.

Still, I had to concede that it was disappointing. If I ignored the immediately deleterious consequences to myself and my war effort, it would have been an astoundingly excellent maneuver. It was such an elegant move really, and I seriously doubted that I’d have such an opportunity to reenact something of this level again. Still, I wasn’t afraid to admit that I was relieved. Rin, despite the relatively short time I’d known her, had begun to grow on me to some degree. I’d be disappointed if I had to kill her.

Doubtlessly, the enemy were talking right now, telepathic communication that proved an invaluable advantage for coordination between Master-Servant pairs in situations such as this. Voiceless, traceless, communication, it would have been incredibly convenient to do the same with Rin but, alas, that just wasn’t possible. However, the enemy didn’t know that, and if we wished to conserve the ruse that she and I were Master and Servant, we couldn’t communicate with each aloud. A troublesome situation, but one that neither of us could help for the moment. Hopefully Rin was talking to Archer right now, recalling him back so as to assist us and break the Matou pair before they could withdraw in time. If I could just distract the enemy Servant, get him focused on me instead of any potential backup that we may have, then we could neutralize the Matou with minimal bloodshed.

A less violent solution to this problem, but one that may be preferable in the end. There had certainly been some advantage to being renowned as the ‘Devil of the Rhine’, but having everyone gun for your head wasn’t one of them. I’d rather not put a target on my head unless absolutely necessary.

“Wow! That was just…..wow!”

The sudden exclamation drew my gaze, along with that of Rin and Matou, towards the boy Servant in front of me. He seemed largely unharmed from our brief tussle, and beyond the exertion he’d committed to save his arm, was far more relaxed about our fight than what one would expect. The boy’s sword had returned to his right arm, the other hand rubbing his bicep, bouncing energetically to his feet. “That was….wild? Wild, I think that’s the word, yes! Wow that was wild!”

He smiled and laughed at that, shaking his head with an exuberance and youth that seemed greatly at odds with the power I’d seen him wielding mere moments ago. His gaze turned to me, eyes glimmering with admiration and awe. “I’d never seen anything like that before! That wasn’t wrestling or boxing or anything like the martial arts I’d read about from Sensei! Well it looked a bit like grappling but you did impossible things with it that I don’t think anyone else could have done! Was it taught to you? Did Rudesdorf teach you some hidden technique, or did you develop it yourself?!?”

I blinked, feeling rather wrong footed. That the Servant looked like a child was not too surprising, there were doubtlessly countless Servants capable of altering their physical form or to deceive the senses so as to create the illusion of a child. But the youthful exuberance and excitement from the enemy seemed genuine enough that I found myself rather confounded. I likely wouldn’t have said anything to the boy, speaking in combat was a sin after all, but the mention of that name caught my attention in a way no jab or insult possibly would have.

“How do you know that name?”

The boy paused, seemingly taken aback, before grinning widely. “Oh, Rudersdorf? He was the leader of Germania before you, wasn’t he? Some of the books I read supposed that he was some kind of mentor or father figure for you, though that was all supposition and guesswork. Were they right?”

He took a few steps forward, though he ceased as his gaze met mine. “I didn’t ask you who that name was, I asked how you knew that name.”

He blinked, confused. “Well by studying you, of course.”

I grit my teeth. Well that made sense, in an unpleasant sort of way. While a Servant may or may not have difficulty identifying who I was, their Masters wouldn’t. I’d been running around without a care in the world for the past few days now and, assuming they had even the barest degree of competence, the Matou likely been studying my comings and goings for some time now. Even assuming that the likes of the Einzbern or Emiya hadn’t informed her of my existence anyway, the odds were good that my identity was likely open knowledge to everyone by this point. That they’d been researching me, delving into my past as a consequence? Much more disturbing.

How much did they research about me? How much did they learn? I don’t think that there was any specific incident of weakness evident in my history that they could use against me, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent positive of that. That the Matou had been researching me indicated that they believed there was something about my past that was worth knowing, and possibly indicated that they had me on their sights. It was an irritating realization, to find that the Family my Master had so casually dismissed as a dying breed had been the one to so thoroughly focus their attention on me in the first place. I resolved to put Matou and her Servant to the top of my kill list, while at the same time taking everything Galliasta ever said to me, or would say to me, with quite a bit more than a pinch of salt.

From the corner of my eye, I noted that the Masters seemed to have stirred from their little stand off. I couldn’t quite tell what they were doing, and at this point I honestly couldn’t care less. My attention remained focused solely on the boy, who seemed to look around with confusion and growing concern. He jerked back for a moment, turning to the side, presumably looking at his Master, before frowning.

“I think I’ve been rude, let me start over-”

I didn’t allow him a moment to finish that sentence. With a sudden burst of magic I rush towards the Servant, my hand raised below, arm locked behind me in preparation for a uppercut. To his credit, the enemy responded quickly, a sudden exertion of force sending him to the side, away from the Masters and away from me as he sought to gain distance. A brief readjustment of my velocity allowed me to follow him with minimal fuss, my trajectory ping-ponging towards his new position, the sudden movement defying conventional laws of physics in the process. The boy seemed aware that I was chasing him however, and he brought his blade downwards in a sudden motion moments before I closed the distance and had him in my grasp.

Suddenly, that same maelstrom from before reappeared once more, a vicious storm that sent him flying from my grasp, the Servant flying upwards and over the houses around us. With a flicker of my will I sent myself racing upwards, braving through the winds to chase the boy down, hoping that Rin would be doing fine on her own.

He wasn’t exactly difficult to find; his clothes and bothersome red cape meant that tracking him down wasn’t exactly the most difficult thing in the world. The boy seemed to realize that, and he seemed to abandon any attempt at camouflage or stealth in favor of moving as quickly as possible. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, tiles crumping slightly with each step, his presence open enough that I could shoot him down if I wished.

It was a risky endeavor, however. I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure of what the Matou knew of me, and while they were certainly aware that I had some proficiency in hand to hand combat, the full extent of my range capabilities wasn’t known. If I shot now, but failed to land a decisive blow, then that would be information the boy could use to neutralize my ability should I try it again. Worse, for all I knew he was waiting for me to shoot, some ability of his designed to neutralize or mitigate my effort while informing him of my own abilities.

Still, that didn’t mean that I was without options. He’d seen how I fought, he’d seen my speed. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to extrapolate some of my abilities from that.

I watched as he raced across the rooftops, jumping to and fro as the distance between us widened. Servants were powerful, mystical, creatures imbued with strength and speed beyond mortal ken. But we were still subject to certain physical laws. We were still tied down by momentum, velocity, gravity, and when one was jumping like a frog from one roof to another, it opened one to becoming fairly predictable.

Cerulean lightning flashed across my limbs as I waited for my next opportunity, which did not take very long. As soon as the boy landed he would exert more force, more pressure, jumping off the roof and into the air, whereupon he was subject entirely to the whims of Newtonian physics.

A moment later and I was gone, the sheer burst of energy I expended sending me flying past the speed of sound. A thunderous shockwave rocked Miyama Town, dust and debris sent flying at my approach as my body rushed to deliver a flying side kick to the small of his back.

It was speed impossible to react to, but it was not necessarily an action impossible to predict. My aim was true, but as I closed the distance and spotted the boy’s sword in his hand, shrouded by his cape and kept from sight, I realized that he had something in store for me. Quickly, more quickly than I’d ever done in my life, I redirected my momentum and dropped straight down, breaking past the roof of a nearby house and away from sight.

The boy had seen my speed in action, it was not unreasonable for him to prepare countermeasures with the assumption that I had complete superiority in mobility and speed. Such a fact meant that it would be impossible to predict what angle I would arrive at, but not that I would be arriving at all. If he set a trap for me, it would likely be with the assumption that I would be quicker than him, that closing the distance would not be exceedingly difficult for me. If such a fact was known, then the most logical place to position a trap would be on the area around and above him, but he likely wouldn’t set up such a trap to focus on the ground lest his trap misfire and send him down into the collapsing rubble of what used to be an Akinese home.

The thunderous maelstrom above me and the shuddering, but still intact, house confirmed my suspicions to be true. I turned my gaze around me, ignoring the shocked look of what seemed to be a family of four, and directed my attention to the window. The glass trembled with the force of the boy’s power, but it did not shroud the fact that I could still see him jumping up into the air, eager to create more distance between him and me.

I muttered a quick apology to the family, still in the middle of preparing dinner it seemed, and crashed through the window. Glass fragments flew past my shield as I chased after the boy.

I didn’t know why it was he was running. While I could be reasonably certain that his Master did not hold ill will towards Rin, he couldn’t say the same for the Tohsaka heiress. Perhaps he was under orders to draw me away, perhaps he imagined that his Master could take Rin without her Servant to protect her. The uncertainty was disconcerting, but I found that I didn’t care much. We were past the point of preparation and counter-preparation, and down to that gritty, murderous, part of war that could best be summed up as kill or be killed. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it to some degree.

Eventually the chase came to an end, and I found him standing in the middle of what looked to be a playground. There were no civilians nearby, thankfully enough, yet the boy stood there as confident and unconcerned as if he was in the middle of his own fortified castle. I hovered above him, several feet in the air, far enough for him to have difficulty in even reaching me but not so far from him that I couldn’t readjust my strategy if the need arose. Monkeybars and swings surrounded the boy, abandoned and empty, the snow from last night having long melted into the ground, turning it muddy and gross as a consequence. It seemed the boy intended to make his stand here.

There was, of course, the danger of witnesses, more so than the night before. My fight with Archer and Saber had happened nearly at midnight, and the risk of a wandering civilian was much reduced, even if we were fighting in a residential area. But to fight at the playground at this time invited trouble, parents would be leaving their work, children would be picked up from school. The odds of them happening upon us was fairly large, though it was certainly better than fighting on the street like Matou and Tohsaka.

Still, if he thought that fear of discovery would stay my hand, the boy had another thing coming. It was the Matou that chose to engage us in the first place, everything that happened after was merely a matter of self defense. If it just so happened that ‘defending myself’ left the Servant dead as a consequence, well, I wouldn’t shed any tears about it.

Despite the chase he’d just incited, the boy seemed largely pleased with himself, staring up at me with an excitement I found difficult not to be suspicious of. He looked around the surrounding area, before looking back at me with a grin.

“Not exactly a field fit for our battle, but all things considered it would have to do.”

I merely gave him a look at that, which caused him to sigh with regret; a surprisingly fatigued sound, to come from so small a boy.

“I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” He smiled ruefully. ”Did something I say anger you? I feel like it did, and if so I’d like to make amends.”

I couldn’t help but scoff at the gall of this boy. “I think you have a very different opinion of how things are supposed to go now. You and your Master show up in front of Rin and I, away from our defenses where we would be at our most vulnerable and attack us in the middle of talks. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve expended any good will you might be owed. You’re an enemy now, nothing more, nothing less.”

The boy raised his hand to the back of his neck, a vaguely conciliatory gesture. “Well believe it or not, my Master and I were just planning on asking your Master about what happened to the Emiya boy, but things sorta spiraled out of control quicker than I anticipated.” he sighed. “Even then, just because we may be enemies doesn’t mean that we could not be friendly about it! In fact, I have a great admiration for you!”

This time, I elected to say nothing, simply gracing him with a disdainful look. The longer this idiot talked, the likelier it was that Archer would arrive to relieve me. That and I recognized a talkative type when I saw one; in this case, letting him run his mouth was nothing but advantageous to me. If letting him talk resulted in him letting slip some interesting bit of information, then all the better.

My silence seemed to inspire something in him, and the boy snapped his fingers. “Damnation, I’ve been rude haven’t I? We’ve been fighting all this time, and you don’t even know who I am!” 

He seemed so apologetic, almost genuinely remorseful, over something so obvious that I was taken aback for a moment. He raised his hands, gathering upon himself some imaginary authority that only he possessed, and bellowed out in a voice dangerously close to breaking. “I’ve forgotten my manners! My name is Alexander of Macedonia, the King of Conquerors and the Rider for this Holy Grail War! While the form you see before me is somewhat youthful, the Child That Would Be rather than The Man That Was, rest assured that nonetheless I am He!”

He seemed proud at his declaration, his eyes drinking me in, hungry for any reaction that my declaration may have caused. His words echo out across the playground, his diminutive size and ridiculous dress seemingly more at home here than any battlefield or court that I could imagine a ‘King’ to reside in. For a moment, the sight of him here, declaring himself a king amongst the see-saws and the jungle gyms, seemed so incongruous, so absurd, that I couldn’t help but laugh.

This was not, apparently, the reaction he expected and the boy gave a deep frown. “W-what are you laughing about?”

I shook my head, waving off his question as I gained a hold of myself. Damn it, where did all the steel and vinegar go? If a man of mine had laughed like that in front of the enemy I’d have him flayed, yet here I was, giggling like an idiot. Eventually, for the boy’s benefit, I muster a halfhearted shrug.

“If you say so.”

Amusingly, this seemed to shut him up quite effectively. His mouth gaped at me, an incredulous look on his face as he staggered back, as though I’d dealt him some mortal blow.

“What do you mean, if I say so?” He sputtered, his tone almost hurt. I shrugged again, almost exasperated at the boy’s persistence.

“I can certainly imagine that you’d want me to think you were Alexander the Great.” Came the thought, which incurred within him a look of such baffled indignation that I honestly felt somewhat irritated at the sight of it. Did he really think I’d believe his ploy so easily? “I can also see the advantage of spreading misinformation of who you are; if the other Servants in the war would believe that you were Alexander the Great instead of some kid with a cape, then that would be beneficial for you.”

He sputtered in place for a moment, an admittedly amusing sight, before he continued on. “Do you think I would lie? That I’d say something as ridiculous as to pretend to be someone else? I am Alexander the Great! The King of Conquerors! Why would I want to be someone else?”

I scoff at that. “I can’t imagine the real Alexander the Great, a man with such strategic brilliance that his name is remembered even today, would be so idiotic as to reveal his identity to an enemy so easily. Beyond that, you look nothing like I’d expect- yes Alexander was young, but he certainly wasn’t a child like you obviously are.”

I paused, frowning for a moment as I sized him up, before amending my statement. “Actually, I stand corrected. I believe recent studies pegged the real Alexander at about five feet, and you seem short enough to fit that category, if nothing else.”

My words seemed to have frozen him in place, and I couldn’t help but feel a trickle of sympathy for him. Regardless of who he was, he probably couldn’t have expected that his Master would be so bold as to attack Rin and I at the first sign of provocation. Beyond the fact that he was the Matou Servant, there’d been nothing so far that would explicitly cross out the possibility of negotiation or a potential alliance or agreement with him or his Master. It wouldn’t be an ideal partnership of course, I knew next to nothing about the Matou Master in comparison to Tohsaka or even Einzbern, but I couldn’t be too picky considering my circumstances. Matou’s recent actions suggested that the time for negotiation and deal making was fast coming to an end, especially if she was so willing to engage the Tohsaka in combat in nearly broad daylight.

There was still the question of the amount of information he had on me, and that was dangerous in and of itself, so the Matou were still at the top of the kill list for me. Still, there were other ways to neutralize an opponent, and if Matou was amenable to becoming my Master then eliminating them as a threat became a moot point. I couldn’t imagine doing so while maintaining my truce with Tohsaka, but at this point the Matou were a distant third as far as potential Masters went.

I was about to say this all to the boy, or at least a heavily edited version of my thoughts, when I paused.

While I’d been chasing the boy, when I’d arrived on the playground, the sun had clearly been setting. The setting sun had cast long shadows across the city, its dying embers filling the sky with its amber light. Now, the sun was almost completely shrouded by dark clouds that had not been there mere moments prior. Lightning graced distant storm clouds, a thundering sound that sent a strange sort of disquiet into my gut.

I snapped my attention downwards, to the boy. He held his sword aloft, its tip pointed straight into the sky as he looked at me with grim resolve.

“It seems to me that we truly have started things off on the wrong foot.” He exclaimed, his eyes hard with determination. “Your accomplishments are many Tanya von Degurechaff, a figure worthy of admiration and acclaim. The achievements you have done, the things you endured, I would expect nothing more from the woman these tomes claim would be nothing less than the Queen of Europa!”

His eyes narrowed. “But I am a King, and a King has his dignity. If you do not believe my words, then so be it! My Teacher once said that ‘We are what we do’, and if my words fail to move your heart then perhaps my actions will!”

The boy brought his arm down and the crack of thunder followed. Lightning crashed down onto the ground beside him, blinding and all encompassing. It was different from the bursts of magical energy that my own abilities sometimes exhibited; this was wilder, unrestrained, a force of nature brought to heel by the Servant before me. A moment later and the lightning strike ended, the scent of ozone and rain evident in the air. On the ground before the boy, where I’d expected some grievous scar upon the ground was a beautiful, majestic, black horse. It harrumphed, its hooves pawing across the ground in agitation as it set its beady eyes upon me. The boy jumped up, landing atop the steed and patting it on the neck before turning his attention to me.

It seemed that, if nothing else, the boy really was a Rider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Had a bit of computer trouble, so was somewhat distracted this week, had to reset my comp a few times so this chapter ended up getting cut in half as a consequence. Beyond that, it was pretty fun writing for tiny!Iskandar. Not quite fully formed, but not quite bereft of himself either. It was an interesting balancing act.


	27. 3.6

3.6

The world flared brightly, a pale light enveloping the area around me in purest radiance. Static electricity crawled between my fingers, the scent of ozone and the thundering rupture of the sky above me telling me more of the danger I was in than any rational analysis ever could. Instinct bid me forward, my limbs spurred onward by sparks of electricity as I disappeared mere milliseconds before Rider’s blow struck.

The sound behind me resembled the deafening cries of heavy artillery so common in my youth, though where that had been accomplished via the ingenuity and science of man, the blow behind me was anything but. If anything it was the opposite, the telltale crack and boom of a lightning strike nothing less than the crystallization of Nature as an overwhelming force. Where the former had been mankind’s efforts to spurn Nature, to fashion something from its bones via scientific principles, the latter had been the world’s reminder that human ingenuity had its place. At the corner of my eye I saw shady visage of my enemy, the weapon in his hand crackling with power as the heavens themselves bent to his will.

It was both natural and unnatural, the bending of the world for the sake of another’s will, and a stray thought tickled somewhere in the recesses of my mind. That I’d seen something like this before, different yet fundamentally the same. Of a Greater Force above me, wielding power well beyond anything a mere mortal was capable of, the spurning of human achievement at the face of unreal power.

I grit my teeth as my velocity waned and my feet skidded across the roof of a nearby house. Considering the danger of my current situation, I’d not cared so much as to where I ended up, as long as it was far and away from the immediate area of the lightning strike. My landing wasn’t particularly elegant, gouging out the tiling of the roof as my feet parted it like mud, but in life and death situations such as this elegant maneuvers could go all the way to hell for all I cared. At the corner of my eye I saw the blackened aftermath of Rider’s strike against me. I’d not been hovering over anything in particular, but the sheer power in the blow had stripped the life out of the nearby vegetation, trees and grass turned to ash and ember. A nearby house had also suffered some degree of damage, but whether due to the structure’s construction materials, deliberate will on Rider’s behalf or sheer luck, the damage had been fairly minimal.

Rider himself was still on the ground, having not moved a single inch since calling forth the lightning. Cracks of electricity emanated from his blade as he gently twirled the thing in his hand, the tip of his blade arcing lightning in its path like some medieval lightning rod, until it finally rested over his shoulder with a careless thud. The boy whistled, looking at the spot I’d originated from and then towards my new position, a grin on his face.

“I know I should be angry or solemn or whatever.” He preened, the boy’s mount turning to face me as though sensing it’s partner’s will. “And I suppose I will in a moment, but I’m just in awe at your speed. I’m a Rider, and I’m supposed to be faster than most other Servants I think, but you’d just blow me out of the water wouldn’t you?”

He was talking again, and not for the first time I grew irritated. I’d appreciated Saber and Archer’s relative silence during my fight with them, so I’d initially thought that Lancer was some strange anomaly in that regard. With Rider’s insistent blabbering I was starting to have my doubts as to just how much of an anomaly the blue skinned bastard really was. Silently, I decided that as much as possible I would try to ensure Rider and Lancer would not engage each other in a fight, or at the very least that if they should fight I would be nowhere near them. Lancer hardly ever shut up when I barely acknowledge him, what more a sparring partner willing to match him barb to barb?

Rider’s steed glared balefully at me, its hungry gaze seemingly reading my thoughts. The damn thing didn’t seem to like the aspersions I apparently held against its colleague and whinnied in anger, citrine eyes promising murder even as Rider patted the horse’s neck, mollifying it to a certain degree. Beyond this the enemy seemed fairly indifferent to the steed’s mood, merely chattering on happily. “I have to say, were you always this fast, or did that change when you became a Servant? Seeing you in action’s got me thinking- in life, I was hailed as a Child of Zeus you know. If you’d lived and fought in my time, would you perhaps been styled as a Child of Hermes?”

I felt a nerve twitch at the side of my head, and I settled my eyes on the boy looking at me with such wide, innocent, eyes. On the one hand, it was quite possible that he had no real ill-will towards me, and even if he did it would have been impossible for him to guess just how irritating being called the child of a god would be for me. At the same time, I refused to believe that someone with as power as Rider seemingly possessed would have achieved the acclaim and glory necessary to achieve manifestation while still running around like some harebrained idiot. It could just as be that he was mocking me behind that facade; after all, if he was already more powerful than he initially appeared, then perhaps he was also more wily than I’d given him credit for?

In battles for the Holy Grail War, information control was paramount, and so there existed three levels of secrecy in regards to my move set. The first, and most surface level, were the skills by which were essentially known to the opposition. It was safe to assume that my identity was open knowledge to the rest of the combatants. Thus, it was safe to assume that they’d have done even a little bit of research regarding my skills in life, so any of my skills even tangentially related to what I had been capable of then would already be exposed. Flight, melee combat, ranged combat, strategy and the like would be a given if the enemy were to fight me, and so I had no need to keep those secret. Certainly the magnitude by which I was capable of utilizing them may be a surprise, but the fact that I’d be able to use them at all shouldn’t be. Rider’s words hinted at that- he was impressed by how fast I moved, but not that I’d achieved flight.

The second level would be those skills that were not on the record, skills I’d been capable of in life that I’d ensured would not be public knowledge or skills that I’d otherwise already used against the prior opposition. The usage of illusions, my visages, strategies in regards to creative application of computation magic. In regular combat these would be considered sufficient to win an engagement all on their own, but considering the level of opposition I was facing there was a non-zero possibility that the enemy had researched far enough to know of those capabilities regardless. Beyond that, I’d used elements of those strategies against other opponents in the war, which means that a particularly watchful enemy would be able to piece together those scraps of information so as to determine what I was capable of. Which means that I should be free to use these techniques as a means to confuse the enemy or turn a fight around, but not to rely upon them in such a way that would be fatal.

The third, and most secret, were my trump cards. My Noble Phantasms. My skills. They had to be used sparingly, utilized only when absolutely necessary, either in the context of surviving an engagement with the enemy or to eliminate them completely and utterly such that there would be no recovery. If I mistimed their usage and the enemy escaped with knowledge of what I was capable of, then I was done. The nature of my existence as a Servant was a highly specialized one; I was strong in some ways and weak in others, and if the enemy ever realized where I was weak and where I was strong then it was just a few more steps from that until my defeat.

What could I use in this fight? What did he already know, and what did he suspect? Where was he strong and where was he weak? These were all valuable questions, questions I suspected would be answered by the time this fight was over.

I rose to my full height, the tiles cracking beneath me as I moved. A few steps forward and I dropped from the roof, landing as daintily as I could unto the somewhat muddy ground below. The snow from last night had melted over the course of the day, turning the earth into fine mud, and I took a moment to hover only slightly above the ground before looking at Rider properly.

“I thought you were here to prove something, boy.” I jeered, making an effort to really rub in the contempt. “I expected you to actually show me something worthy of Alexander the Great. If all I wanted to see was lightning falling from the sky, I’d wait until it rained.”

He seemed taken aback by that, before laughing once more. “True! Very true. My apologies then, Kaiserin. Though you’d never taken the title, you are still a Queen worthy of mutual respect! I shall ensure that you would not be disappointed.”

Rider raised his sword to the sky, a bright gleam in his eyes as thunder boiled in the sky above. “Buccephalus! Run her down!”

His black steed roared in triumph, seemingly more in common with an apex predator than an equestrian lackey. Its hooves cracked the ground, carving deep pits into the earth with each exertion. Cerulean lightning manifested itself around me as power flowed into my limbs, my body reflexively settling into a combat stance as the enemy approached. Rider grinned at that, his blade blazing lightning unto the ground as he closed the distance and swung the blade at me. Blur arcs of electricity flowed from his blade, melting and burning the playground around us, more than sufficient to sear me alive at even a passing hit were I foolish enough to let him.

But I’d expected something to that effect, and I spun to the side, a rifle manifesting into my hands as I stabbed its bayonet deep into the horse’s neck. Somewhat predictably, the blade cracked in twain upon contact, the steel unable to pierce the damn thing’s hide as the shattered remnants dissipated into ambient magical energy. A brief moment of concentration sent the very tip of the gun’s barrel kissing the horse’s flesh, and as I let go of the weapon, the riffle fired at point blank range.

Of course, if I’d simply allowed it to fire as normal I doubt the resulting fire would have had much of an effect. If Rider’s steed was capable enough of deflecting a blade, then its hide would likely resist a magically enhanced bullet, even if the gun had fired at point blank range. More extensive resources were likely necessary to disable the steed, and so I bet the firearm towards a more useful purpose. At my insistence, the gun simply exploded. Closer to a shaped charge really, the manifested magical energy explosively deconstructing itself, funneled directly by my will as I aimed the fire directly towards the ground below.

My magic carved out a deep hole into the earth, displacing the mud along the steed’s eyes and Rider’s front. The resulting explosion did nothing to actually hurt the horse of course, and the immediate aftereffects of such a tactic did nothing more but obscure the enemy’s line of sight for a few moments. Seemingly a pittance as far as resource investment was concerned, but even a moment’s distraction was invaluable if directed at the perfect moment. In this case, my diversion accomplished just that. What with the brand new hole beneath the horse’s hooves and the sudden disappearance of any visual input, I reflected on the fact that, as I’d previously noted, we Heroic Spirits were still bound to silly things like gravity and momentum.

The steed’s front hooves crashed into the newly formed hole, its pitiful whinnying a remarkable contrast to Rider’s yelp of surprise, and I chose to take advantage of the moment as swiftly as possible as I leaped atop the horse, settling right behind Rider. Bucephalus whinnying turned wrathful as it realized that I was atop it, but its disorientation was sufficient to neutralize it for the moment, even as Rider himself was still taking precious moments to realize what exactly had happened. My free hand grabbed Rider by the back of his armor, holding him in place as my other hand closed to form a fist. Blades manifested itself around the hand, knives as long as my hand settling into a sort of orbital position, and as I struck at his back with force equal to just below the speed of sound those very same blades followed just as quickly.

The first blow struck, and the subsequent kinetic force was sufficient to further force the steed into the mud pit I’d made for it. My blades were of somewhat less utility, most shattering on impact against Rider’s armor, but they were not without their own usefulness. Stab marks, courtesy of those nameless blades, were evident all around the initial impact site and so I simply manifested more blades and struck again.

By the third strike, Rider had already recovered. Though his feet were set securely into the horse’s stirrups, thus momentarily impeding any immediate response on his part as his steed struggled beneath us, that did not mean he was entirely defenseless. His blade hand was still free, and the boy twirled his blade to the side, the silvery reflection of the blade glowing with an elemental rage, as he struck the damn thing under his armpit in an effort to stab at me. A moment later, the blade hummed angrily as a stream of lightning flew from the blade with reckless abandon, scouring the playground behind me in long streaks of burnt matter.

But as he prepared to unleash the fury of the heavens, I was already on the move. I abandoned my third strike mid motion and maneuvered myself around Rider. One hand shifted to the back of his neck as a knee was planted right atop his thigh, my other leg was nestled between the boy’s legs as the discomfort I felt in this position was mitigated by the anti-gravity characteristic of my flight system. Before the boy could really have the opportunity to understand what exactly was happening, I manifested a pistol to my hand and opened fire on his face. Rider dodged away from my shots just in time, the ground exploding as magical ammunition ripped the playground apart all around us. I hadn’t even emptied the magazine before I noted a blur of silver as the enemy’s blade rose to bisect me across the waist. My magic swirled as I performed something of a sideways jump, keeping myself as a horizontal plank in mid air as I continued trying to perforate Rider’s head with more bullets. Another swing of his blade, this time at the back of my knees, forced my legs upward into my chest before I twirled my legs in the opposite direction, enacting a sort of handstand vertically atop shoulders. His eyes brimmed with excitement mixed with confusion, a bloodlust in his eyes that I silenced by aiming my firearm at his head once more and pulling the trigger.

My new position meant that, dodge or not, my bullets would still hit either the boy or his mount. Rider seemed to realized this as well; instead of dodging, the boy simply raise his hands into a guard position, my bullets exploding against his armguard to little effect, shrapnel pinging uselessly against the both of us. Rider took advantage of our little impasse to strike me with his blade again, which I narrowly dodged. Lightning arced into the sky, missing me by inches as I felt the heat brush against my face. I let the boy go, rushing up above as I readjusted my orientation, my entire body now facing the ground as I settled into the sky. His steed was moments away from breaking free of its muddy prison as I took a deep breath, my voice echoing with power as a dozen visages appeared around me.

“Only the Chosen may enter my Garden.”

My greatest worry was that Rider would turn out to be another Saber, capable of such high degrees of magic resistance that he would be capable of simply shrugging off my magic. As such, I needed to test his defenses beforehand; I needed to see the damage I could inflict upon the boy and his steed without revealing any significant cards on my side while judging just how effective such defenses would be against my own abilities. At the same time, I had to ensure that this test would not result in a severely disproportionate response- if I’d simply flown around him like a fly, taking potshots at him while remaining safely out of reach, he could have simply decided to throw caution to the wind and engulf the immediate area in a lightning storm. If he’d done it once before, then he could do it again. I had no intention of playing chicken with a being capable of manipulating the weather by thought alone, not against the Matou Servant at least. An obviously unacceptable outcome.

Which was why I’d elected to abandon the high ground and set my feet to the dirt along side Rider. Prior evidence indicated that the enemy possessed a level of pride and fair play that seemed open to manipulation. The appearance of equitability, to seemingly surrender my flight so as to engage him on equal ground, it would appeal to that sense of indignation he’d exhibited earlier that had compelled him to reveal his trump card for no other reason than injured pride. It meant that he would, as much as a Heroic Spirit could anyway, attempt to fight fairly. I certainly didn’t expect him to engage in some neat and tidy duel, but neither did I imagine Rider to so easily bombard me with lightning after I so gallantly accepted his desire to prove himself.

The earth blossomed into cerulean flame, the flames bathing the surrounding area in light even as the sun set far beyond the horizon. My visages scoured the playground, the searing heat glassing the ground below such that no life would ever bloom here again. The multitudinous explosions meant that tracking movement was not at all easy; the playground had a much smaller surface area than the Einzbern property the day before, so even with less firepower brought to bear upon Rider I could hardly differentiate the dancing flames from a Servant’s movement, not that it mattered anyway. I doubted even this would be sufficient to kill Rider and his steed. Nonetheless, it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant either, and so he would be forced to make a move sooner rather than later, lest he be cooked alive in the flames below.

Thankfully, by virtue of his own personality matrix, it was easy enough to see what his response was going to be. Rider did not seem the type to take a wait and see approach as Archer had done.

The heavens thundered in anger, the storm above growing fiercer and more powerful. A moment later, a crack of lightning fell from the sky, piercing two of my visages in twain as their shadowed forms dissipated into the wind. At the same time, I heard a bellow from the inferno below, the neigh of an enraged steed and sparks of lightning as….as…

Rider, atop his black steed, rode forth from the fire. His steed climbed atop the air as though it was nothing more severe than a steep incline, lightning paving the way for his hooves as Bucephalus snarled in triumph. The red haired Servant atop it screamed in jubilation, his cape singed, his armor blackened with soot, exposed sections of his skin suffering from the burns I’d inflicted upon him. Yet despite all that Rider grinned just as widely now as he did then, more so in fact, and he screamed out an incoherent challenge into the wind.

I’d like to have imagined that I was ready for such an insane event to occur. I was not so arrogant as to believe that I would be the only Servant capable of flight after all, but Rider’s sudden, absurd, leap into the sky was just so out of the blue that I stared in wonder for longer than was strictly permissible. It wasn’t until Rider had swung his blade at the closest of my manifestations, the lightning tearing the visage apart in his elemental fury, that I was shocked out of my horrified trance.

With a thought, I sent my remaining visages away, setting them into a scattered, staggered, line that made them more difficult for Rider to take down. Not that it would be particularly difficult for him to do so, between his own blade and the wrath of the heavens in any case, but I had no desire to make it any easier for him. He wouldn’t be chasing shadows in any case, not when he had his target in sight.

“TANYA!” Rider screamed aloud, his smile wild and manic as he chased after me. I responded by flying away from him, my visages covering my escape with intersecting lines of fire that would have bored a hole into a tank in any other circumstances. As it were, Bucephalus and his Rider were quick enough, agile enough in the air, that most of my shots went wide, their maneuvers making it difficult to sufficiently track their movements. I raced backwards, beams of light flying in my wake as sentient lightning seemed to chase me across the sky. They were fast, but they weren’t exceptionally so. I was confident that I could outrun them if I had to, and if I were fighting Archer or Saber that would have been the correct decision. They were intelligent enough, sober enough, to realize that chasing me was a fool’s errand.

Rider was not gifted with an abundance of sense, however. I was fairly confident that even if I rushed into the horizon, creating such a massive distance that pursuit was impossible, that he would still chase after me. If he kept shouting the entire time, or kept his steed as visible as he was already doing, then I was fairly confident that even Church’s fearsome information suppression agency would be incapable of keeping things quiet. I could see it now, the evening news reporting on a boy and his flying horse for all the world to see.

Not at all ideal, and while anything I could do to ground the boy was likely to be just as loud, if not more so, than simply allowing him free reign, I likely wouldn’t have much of a choice. The battle had to end now, and if I made a loud enough bang here to attract Archer then all the better. I just hoped that I wouldn’t attract anyone else into the battle as a consequence.

I raced up into the sky, my eyes closed as magic suffused into my words once more. By the time I opened my eyes, my form hidden in the storm clouds with Rider in hot pursuit, I reckoned it was time. I chanted the next line.

“A Reward fitting for your Loyalty, your Obedience.”

The space around us pulsed, and the darkness of the storm clouds grew deeper. The space between Rider and I was not particularly large as far as air travel was concerned, but I considered that a good thing over all. The multiplicative effects of anti-air munitions meant that a tight corridor was preferable, a corridor formed from Rider’s beeline straight towards me as he entered the clouds and rand face first into an artillery shell.

The subsequent explosion was the first of many, and a shockwave rippled across the clouds, thunderous explosions that I hoped the people down below would simply believe was a particularly aggressive storm cloud. Bombs and shells manifested in the space between Rider and I, dozens, hundreds of munitions triggering in mid air as Rider swept past them. Shrapnel and smoke filled the air, the storm clouds a foul miasma of smoke and thunder.

I’d lost visual confirmation of Rider, but at this point I didn’t need to see him. The bombs manifesting around me were sufficient to tell me where exactly the boy was. They barreled through the clouds, their outlines formed from the explosion as lightning heralded their path. Explosions formed in the sky above me, more of Rider’s damnable lightning bolts falling from the sky in an effort to catch me, but at this point they were more distraction than anything else. It was the wild flailing of desperation that caused those bolts to fall more than anything else; they hardly ever fell upon me, and were used more often to clear the path of my mines, even as triggering those same munitions caused countless shards of shrapnel to fill the air and pepper them with molted steel. Even a single one of those bombs would have been sufficient to blow a man into small, unidentifiable, pieces- but a Heroic Spirit was made of much sterner stuff than mean and bone. They soldiered on through the thunderous applause, shrapnel overwhelming them to such an extent that I imagined they would be more metal than man by the time they emerged.

A naive sentiment in hindsight, but I suppose I was reaching for any excuse to end the fight at this point. I was exerting my will upon the world with far more exuberance than I’d previously had before, and I did not like it. It was magically taxing, and while certainly far more destructive than anything else I could bring on short notice, was not ideal in a fight against someone like Rider. It left myself vulnerable, in the sense that in the effort to cast my magic out like this, I neglected the operation of my own body. Which was why I reckoned that I made a silly mistake like staying still in the middle of an active warzone.

From within the cloud I sensed Bucephalus run faster, a sudden increase in velocity so abrupt as to confuse my senses. Lightning fell one after the other, and I realized that they were somehow riding the lightning- appearing in one spot and then the next with each bolt, a technique that minimized interaction with my explosions but which must have been hideously expensive as far as mana went.

An unfortunate realization, as I recognized his technique too late as a thunderclap rang out above me. Rider and his steed flew forth from the clouds like an avenging angel, bloody, bruised but not at all broken. The steed pushed forward, haggardly flying on to close the distance as I dismissed the mines and forced my attention upon the enemy Servant.

Visages appeared from amongst the clouds, acting upon my will and taking advantage of Rider’s desperation. He was close now, so close he could taste it, and so all thoughts of subterfuge and airborne maneuvers succumbed against the rabid desire to close the distance. A coordinated strike consisting of several dozen cerulean beams converged on his location, the beams tracking their movements so as to blow his stupid fucking horse out of the bleeding sky.

But again, Rider seemed to have expected something like this. Moments before the explosion occurred, Bucephalus dissipated in a flurry of lightning, leaving Rider alone in midair as cerulean fire engulfed him. Absurdly, the boy used the inherited momentum from his steed as well as the new found velocity of my explosions behind him to thrust himself forward- faster than I expected, faster than should be possible, and tackled me in a rib shattering blow.

I was more than capable of flying despite the boy’s weight upon me, but that was presuming that I had a compliant passenger onboard. As it was, the boy was desperately flailing against me now, cuts and bruises evident all across his body as he dragged his blade down again and again and again. Lightning echoed all around us as his blade slid across the edge of my shield, cracking dangerously with each blow. Eventually, I recovered enough to raise my hands above me, holding his blade hand by the wrist even as the other grabbed onto his coat. An impasse for the both of us, our limbs tangled together even as our struggles sent us crashing straight into the ground.

“Tanya von Degurechaff!” Rider yelled into my ear, excitement and what I think was admiration in his eyes. “You are an admirable woman and a worthy opponent, will you marry me?”

Despite the situation we were in, the life threatening duel in this bloody war, the fact that he was bleeding from maybe half a dozen places that I could see, I couldn’t help but laugh. I’d thought much about his idiot grin as he struggled against me, but I couldn’t help but concede that I was likely being hypocritical. I’d been smiling the entire time as well.

“Too late, Rider.” I grinned, even as my mind raced for a solution out of this dilemma. We were out of the clouds now, and I suspected I had a few seconds more to turn the situation around before we would both splatter against the ground. “I’m already married!”

“The best ones always are!” He sighed aloud, and his arms broke free from my grasp, my distraction costing me control over his limbs as he raised his blade atop me, ready for a plunging strike into my heart. Lightning cracked in the sky above, seemingly ready to match the boy’s strike as the ground clouds broke around us and revealed the glittering city below.

His blade came crashing down and I was ready. The strike impacted my shield, shattering my protection even as the lightning bolt came crashing down. An exertion of my will spun the both of us, into an uncontrolled nosedive, the sudden exertion sufficient to dodge the lightning, though I felt a sudden burning sensation across my back and arm as the lightning passed. I ignored it, instead repositioning myself such that Rider was below me. He struggled of course, his hands gripping mine as he sought leverage and spurned by equal parts desperation and inspiration, I reached out to grab him by the neck.

Rider looked confused, rightly so, but before he could do anything to stop me I laid a quick, chaste, kiss on his lips.

Amusingly, the boy reacted as all boys his age would, and essentially settled into a sort of catatonic shock. His grip on my clothes lessened, his blade grew slack on his hand, and several feet or so before crashing into the ground I halted my momentum. Rider did not halt with me, and the boy was sent crashing into what looked to be a commercial building, slamming through the roof and into an unknown number of floors as I hovered safely above the crash site.

I waited a few moments, eyes and ears alert for any sound down below. When none seemed apparent, I gave an exhausted sigh.

It was perhaps a tad premature, for all I knew the boy was recovering down below, ready to climb back up here for round two, but somehow I doubted it. He did not seem the type to wait, and if nothing else he wasn’t quiet enough to sneak up on me. If necessary, I could simply fly away from here if he showed himself. Secrecy be damned, I wasn’t about to have another fight with the boy in the storm clouds if I could help it.

Eventually, duty won out over my own exhaustion and I floated in after him. I found him perhaps four floors down, his body crumpled into a heap, looking for all the world as though he was asleep. He was having a nice dream too, as despite the lack of consciousness on display the boy was smiling in his sleep.

I kicked his side, and the stupid grin failed to disappear. I sighed, collapsing not too far from his body, and set my head against the wall.

So he wasn't dead, that was something, though it was certainly more trouble than if he'd just died on impact. What was I to do with an unconscious enemy Servant after all?

Well the answer to that was simple. Kill him. 

I looked towards Rider, considering my options. Thoughts rushed into my head, too quickly for me to really consider them, and I closed my eyes before banging my head slightly against the wall. It wasn't painful, but a part of me wished it had been. 

There were no windows in the room he'd ultimately crash into, so I stared up into the hole in the ceiling, settling my gaze up into the sky as my mind lay empty and bereft of any particularly useful thoughts. The sky was dark and gloomy, still bereft of storm clouds, and without an immediate impetus to act I found myself staring up into the sky and waited.

\---------

_AN: The other half of last week’s chapter. A bit late as far as the schedule goes, but I had to do some last minute editing when I realized that certain portions of the chapter failed to save properly. Big sads, and I think the chapter became somewhat shorter in the rush to adjust for it, but I think it serves its purpose well enough as it is._


	28. 3.7

3.7

There was much to do, and I was running out of time to do any of it. 

My little break had done little to make my predicament any easier on me; yes I’d been rather uncharacteristically flustered from the consequence of my battle with the boy, but that was more to do with the typical chaos that came in the aftermath of a battle than anything else. Humans were fundamentally irrational creatures, and the chaotic tempo of battle brought such irrationality to the surface- tempers flaring, emotions running high, the vacant space where one’s logical mind used to be, it was the sort of ridiculous absurdity that often broke apart carefully laid plans when left to rampage on their own. I wasn’t particularly proud of it, but I knew better to mope about and castigate myself for such a mistake while still in the middle of an active warzone. If I was going to brood about it, I’d have to ensure I’d survive long enough to have all that time to brood in the first place.

Thankfully, the battle’s outcome had given me an invaluable opportunity, one that I had to utilize to its full advantage. Missteps could not be allowed here, and so I had to make sure that I could settle this problem step by step. I was aware, deeply aware, that I was already likely running late for my meeting with Einzbern, but I had very little choice in the matter. Hopefully she’d be the forgiving type- I’d rather not alienate two of the three families in a single night.

The first thing to do was to identify where we were. A cursory observation of the area we’d fallen into suggested that we were likely in the Mount Miyama district. The mount in that name was not at all indicative of its true nature as it was more of a hill than anything else, but it was home to a variety of commercial buildings that wasn’t too far distant from where I’d left Rin and Matou at. Our battle wasn’t exactly subtle; if either of them had been paying the slightest amount of attention to what had been going on, they should already be on their way. More to the point, unless Archer was engaged in his own battle, Tohsaka’s Servant should already be on site. The fact that he wasn’t led to a degree of uncertainty as to what exactly was going on, uncertainty that I’d have to clarify as clearly as possible.

A wave of my hand generated a number of holographic panels and screens, each display depicting an area of the Miyama Town that the Tresillo had bugged. For the most part the view was largely unremarkable, panicking civilians, the beginnings of what looked like a community response from my battle with Rider, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. What was interesting was that the surveillance closest to where Tohsaka and Matou had been was devoid of anything unusual. No strange markings from unusual magic, no dead bodies caught in the crossfire, no collateral damage.

Not ideal. I’d been hoping for some indication as to how the meeting had panned out between the two Houses, and the lack of information was troubling in regards to my next steps. I was still playing the role of Rin’s Servant, which meant that as much as possible I could not act out against Rin’s wishes as much as possible. If those two had still been acting as enemies, then the most straightforward path was to kill Rider. If those two had formed an alliance of some kind, then it would be in Rin’s best interest to ensure the Matou Servant didn’t die here. A Matou-Tohsaka alliance had the potential to swing the war into their favor, which meant an opportunity to exploit. Considering the effort I’ve done to keep Tohsaka at ease, there was the potential that I could worm my way into that alliance and thus secure a more favorable position to eliminate the rest of the Servants in the war. On the other hand, if I did something rash and stupid to alienate myself from that alliance, I risked possibly being thrown out into the cold. 

Then again, I was probably getting ahead of myself. For all I knew, Tohsaka’s silence and Archer’s absence might mean that she was already dead. 

I paused to consider that for a moment. In such a situation, that left Archer as a free agent and Matou as the victorious winner. Not particularly ideal, in that I’d spent the entire day shoring up an alliance with the Tohsaka that was basically null and void now, but promising in another sense. It meant that I could position myself as the Matou Servant by killing Rider right now.

Whether or not Tohsaka was alive or not was irrelevant in this analysis. If I ensured that Matou could no longer properly operate within the context of the Holy Grail War, I could force her into a partnership with me. If Tohsaka was dead, then there was no alliance to subvert and I could eliminate Rider at my leisure. If Tohsaka was alive, then nothing would essentially change as far as an alliance went- all I would be doing was replacing Rider’s position within that hierarchy. In such a case wherein Tohsaka was alive, it revealed that she was unreliable in any case. When faced with a situation wherein her ally was fighting her enemy after having saved her life, instead of sending her Servant to immediately support me, she simply watched from a distance to see who would win. A rational decision certainly, and one I would have done in any case, but it also meant that I owed her no favors in upsetting whatever agreement she would have forged with Matou.

It was an elegant solution, at least on the surface. If Matou had triumphed over Rin, then that meant Matou was a Master of substantial skill. If I had triumphed over Rider, then that meant I was a Servant of substantial skill. Logically, it meant that securing an alliance would be relatively simple with Rider out of the way.

But nothing of what I’d seen from the Matou Master indicated that she was a rational, logical, creature. In fact, I knew next to nothing of her- except that she had an explosive temper and a bone to pick with Rin, which in and of itself wasn’t unusual. If Rin’s input on how a Servant was essentially a familiar to a mage was accurate, then she might perceive my elimination of Rider as an attack on herself. I would essentially be trusting my continued autonomy and existence on Matou’s unproven character, a character who’s irrationality and impulsiveness had, essentially, gotten her Servant defeated. I did not like the odds of abandoning one unpalatable, yet ultimately stable Master, for a Master with uncertain morals and even more unstable demeanor. For all that Galliasta was unpleasant, he’d not yet been forced to utilize a Command Seal on me. I could not say the same for Matou.

This was without counting out Archer either. He had an class ability to act independently without a Master for a brief period of time- if his Master was dead, then he could easily beat me to Matou and secure that partnership with her. He’d move more quickly than me, what with his Master dead and mine remaining alive, and in a contest of speed in this specific regard he’d probably have me beat. Additional information was necessary before I could commit to this path, both for the Matou as a whole and their Master specifically. Thankfully, I had an ample source of information right here.

The commercial building I’d fallen into had apparently been a Chinese- pardon, Jiuzhounese restaurant in its day to day operations. It seemed well off enough, at least enough to justify a multilayered commercial building in any case, though I imagine I’d put a dent into their finances with my crash landing atop their property. It took a few minutes of work to push aside the pots, pans and other cooking paraphernalia so as to form an acceptable space from which I dumped Rider’s unconscious body. The boy was still unconscious, an idiotic grin on his face, and I couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation.

Against a Servant that capable in combat, with powers of that caliber, even compensating for the boost that an undoubtedly exemplary Master like a Matou could give him…..well, there were very few alternatives to the obvious. There’d been time after our fight, where I could do the proper research, where I could ping the Holy Grail for confirmation and….

It was absurd, that this stupid, idiotic kid was Alexander the Great. I wasn’t so bullheaded to dismiss the obvious once it’d been pointed out to me, but even I could see that my own skepticism worked against me here. If he hadn’t been so foolish as to call out his name like that, I doubt I ever would have connected him to that legendary figure.

The sleeves of my coat and sleeve drew backwards, the cloth unstitching itself like some pseudo-sentient entity as individual threads drew apart like worms from a corpse, revealing pale skin skin absent the scars I incurred in life. I kept note of his face, his form, as a flick of my wrist manifested a knife in my hand.

For the most part, a great deal of my abilities had parallels with what I was capable in life. Flight, long range combat, short range combat, my own magic- while it was not built upon the framework of computation technology, it nonetheless functioned like it did. This was not unreasonable, the legends from which a Servant was derived from was drawn from the actions of their real life counterpart. A famous swordsman would naturally be skilled with the blade, and their subsequent manifestation as a Heroic Spirit would reflect that. The same for my case, when the memory I'd inflicted upon the collective zeitgeist of humanity had me flying around firing magically enhanced bullets in the air, very few people offered any kind of confusion or objection as to my capabilities. I was considered the mother of modern magic, so of course my own magic would reflect that.

But those weren’t my only abilities, merely the most obvious. The most reasonable to guess and extrapolate from my past. The easiest to utilize without showing all of my cards.

The knife traced a thin line across my skin, crimson fluid flowing out of the wound and dripping into a puddle on the ground. I was no novice to the sight of blood, but the sight of it still sent a shiver of unease down my spine. It was too bright, too viscous, to really be the kind of blood that I was familiar with. Perhaps that was my fault, I’d rarely utilized this particular skill since I’ve been summoned, even if it was supposed to be my bread and butter, so to speak.

Territory Creation was a skill available to the Caster class, one of the several granted to me in this form that I’d never possessed in life. It was a remarkably versatile ability, at least on paper, and there were a number of interpretations of the skill, as affected by a Servant’s nature and capability. Strip away the filling and the unusual exceptions however, and it was ultimately summed up as a sort of defensive ability wherein Casters could draw forth some degree of advantage. Some could use it to draw mana and be more efficient towards their spell casting, others to make it some form of defensive fortification with which to repel attacks from other Servants.

I imagine it was more convenient for them to utilize theirs as well. Mine, unfortunately, had several stacking preconditions necessary before being utilized to its full potential. In this case, where a quick and dirty application of the skill was necessary, my blood would serve as a sufficient price.

My natural hardiness ensured that the cut on my arm didn’t last for very long, the skin stitching itself back until not even a scar remained. The cloth returned to its proper place soon after, slowly shrouding my arm in its protective warmth as the puddle below spread into a loose circle around Rider and I. It was somewhat macabre, blood magic was no substitute for proper computation magic, but whether it was due to my new existence or that the ability was so ingrained into this form, I actually felt rather comfortable within the blood circle. 

I took a moment to look down at Rider, considering his sleeping form for a moment, before dropping my foot down onto his wrist, breaking it with a sharp crack.

His reaction was remarkably subdued. Typical reactions to one’s wrist being broken typically ranged from aggrieved yelling to pitiful sobbing, in a situation like Rider’s wherein the pain interrupted sleep patterns, reactions were even more accentuated. Outrage, anger, identification of what had caused that person harm followed by an attempt to strike out at the person in a blind rage.

Instead, his eyes simply snapped open, before focusing for a moment and turning his attention to me. His body hadn’t even jerked at the sudden dislocation, and I suspected that if I reached over to take his pulse it hardly would have even spiked. I gave him a smile.

“Good morning, Rider.” I greeted him cheerily. “Well, good evening at this point really. I was thinking about letting you sleep in, but that just wouldn’t be fitting for a Heroic Spirit now would it?”

He stared at me still, eyes a murky red as he studied me. A moment later a wide grin blossomed across my face and he laughed.

“Sleeping In? Good Morning?” He snickered aloud. “The books had remarked about your rather strange sense of humor, but it truly is something else to see it in action hahahahaha!”

Despite my rather strong start, it was difficult not to sigh. This boy was Alexander the Great? I truly couldn’t see it. I could understand that looks could be deceiving and all that but….really?

I crouched on the ground, my head tilted to what most would consider a ‘cute’ expression. “I can’t help but be impressed. Most people would be wise enough to the situation to recognize that they were in a dangerous situation, ya know? You just seem to treat it like some game, I can’t tell if its bravery or stupidity.”

“Well is that not the essence of bravery in the first place?” Rider remarked, his feet moving back and forth like a child with a tantrum. “To do things grander! To stand, where other men would crumble! If I were to falter now, then I would simply be human no? And a King is supposed to be more than human!”

He shifted his head over to me, his gaze unusually bright. “You understand, don’t you?”

There a variety of things I could say to that. Interrogations certainly weren’t meant to be quite as friendly as Rider was making it out to be, but at the same time I had no real motivator for lying. I shrugged. “No, not really.”

Rider noticeably deflated at that, which was equal parts satisfying and guilt inducing. I slapped him across the head, standing up as I did. 

“You recognize where you are right? You’re taking things too lightly, did all the sense get knocked out of your head or something? Do you even know where you are right now?”

Just like that, the boy’s depression dissipated into the wind, and he grinned. “Well I don’t know where I am really, but I do remember that! We fought, didn’t we? There were a few other things at the end that I can’t quite recall-”

Rider’s grin somehow grew wider, and I gave him an unamused look. I was several decades too old and two lifetimes too dead to be embarrassed by such a passionless kiss. He seemed to realize that any reaction I might have would not be the amusement he would be looking for, and he simply carried on. 

“-but in the end our fight ended here!” He declared boldly, the brief display of disappointment disappearing as though it had been a mirage, his legs doing that up and down motion again. “I’d have preferred to not have had my wrist broken, or to be in such questionable circumstances, but no victory is entirely without losses of some kind. I’m quite thankful that I’m still alive in fact! Your legend states that very, very few of your enemies ever survive a meeting with you for the first time, and the fact that I’d taken my victory and retained my life is an accomplishment regardless of how one would look at it.”

I paused at that, looking around our immediate area, before looking back down at the other Servant. He was looking at me with a faux innocent expression that made me want to kick his teeth in, but I restrained myself in time.

“I don’t know about you.” I remark dryly. “But I wouldn’t call your current predicament a victory, Rider.”

He laughed. “So most would think! But I know better and, I think, so do you, hmm?”

The boy twisted his gaze to the side. “I haven’t seen this before, this blood around us. It’s new isn’t it? Something you’ve been keeping secret, something you don’t want others to see. When we fought you were- well you were amazing! Fierce, powerful but predictable, yes?”

His eyes sharpened into glints of fire. “You were keeping your weapons in reserve, just in case. It matches what the records showed of your life, prudency matched with ruthlessness. You were never exactly what you appeared, and the moment your enemies thought you pegged a certain way, that was when you struck, didn't you?”

A moment of silence, before he smiled and his head struck the wooden floor with a dull thud. “It means I've achieved my victory, that my pride is satisfied and that you’ve taken me seriously. Even if you’d not say it outright, I am no longer a nameless child, but Alexander of Macedonia, aren’t I?”

This time I didn't attempt to hide my sigh. It was true enough, and conceding this much was more likely to garner his cooperation, and his bout of talkativeness, than spiting him needlessly. “You're still much odder than I expected.”

“Odd is strange, no? And strange is the opposite of normal, which means that I am strange! Nothing less for the man I would become!”

He grinned in satisfaction, before turning his gaze to meet mine. “You’ve taken me prisoner, as is the right of all conquerors. You would only have spared my life if you had some purpose for it beyond my demise, so ask your questions before my Master grows suspicious. No matter the protections you’ve built here, I don’t believe it would stop a Command Seal should Sakura Matou become truly determined.”

My mind blanked at that, and I couldn’t help but stare at him incredulously. 

I’d acknowledged who he was, it was impossible not to, but that didn’t make understanding him any easier. He operated off of this insane, alien, logic that I couldn’t quite comprehend. If I put his decision making into my own context I could understand that he was performing the most optimal move to ensure his own survival, but if what he was saying was true he hardly even cared about that! He was not upset or bitter that he lost, but elated that I’d taken him seriously and believed who he was. He was not trying to find a way to break free from this place, but taking the opportunity to converse with me as much as possible. In fact, at this point, I was fairly certain that I’d have to break his other hand if I wanted to get him to stop talking.

“This is going a lot more differently than I'd expected.” I frowned. 

“Well, I’m in no mood to be tortured.” He grinned. “You’re probably going to kill me after this right? If I’m going to die in this war, then it makes the most sense that I’d die to you, and if you’re going to kill me, then I’d expect you to win the war! Nothing less from the woman that killed me.”

Not for the first time tonight, I found myself incapable of speech. Rider didn’t seem to mind, and simply chattered onward. “So what’s it you wanted to talk about? Magi are a secretive bunch, We could talk about my Sensei, he’s a survivor of the Fourth War you know? He taught my Master you know and-”

“Wait, stop.” I said, my mind whirling. “You’re insane, no Servant would be giving away this kind of information without consequence, it’s too-”

“Strange?” He grinned. “So it is perfect for me then! Besides, it would only level the playing field. I entered this war knowing everything about you Tanya von Degurechaff, so it only makes sense for you to know just as much about me and my Master! How else would be able to properly fight for control of the Grail?”

“....didn’t you say that you expected me to kill you?” I sigh weakly.

“Indeed! I’d expect you to try, even succeed, but I shan't be making it easy for you!”

I felt an oncoming headache, and I placed my fingers in-between my nose. “Then by all means continue."

The boy grinned and began to speak and I, not being a complete fool, began to listen.

* * *

For all that the boy was excited in telling me of everything he knew, he was not a succinct or particularly clear storyteller. He spoke quickly, brushing over events, incidents and people that he presumed I knew, and it took not a bit of corralling until the relevant information was extracted.

Rider spoke of Waver Velvet, a participant and survivor of the Fourth War that now ascended into the ranks of the Clock Tower, an Albion magus organization. He explained that, as a boy, Velvet had summoned another version of him, in his function as the fully realized King of Conquerers than the boy that he was. It was this link, this catalyst, that Waver had allowed Sakura Matou to use so as to participate in the Fifth War.

For Waver Velvet was Sakura Matou’s teacher and de facto guardian. The Matou Family were nearly eradicated in the waning days of the Fourth War. It was survived only by Sakura and Shinji Matou, with Sakura possessing a major grudge against the Tohsaka, which Rider believed was due to their possible involvement in the destruction of her family. Sakura herself had been entrusted to Waver upon the conclusion of the war, though by whom and why, Rider didn’t know.

It had been Sakura that insisted in participating in this war, and Velvet’s apprenticeship of the girl was just as much due to his responsibility to her as her guardian as well as a desire to avert her path from the same mistakes he’d committed in his youth. The boy had been brash and foolish, expecting the war to be just another contest between magi, instead twisted into a slaughterhouse the likes of which had not been seen since the Great War. Rider chattered on, his features only occasionally growing dark at the mention of a particularly gruesome tale.

The Berserker of that war had lived up to its name, butchering countless civilians with mindless abandon until it was finally put down like a rabid dog.

The Einzberns had lost brutally in that war, their homunculus Master butchered at the hands of that war’s Archer, her remains scattered far and wide such that the ritual itself was in danger, though Rider did know why.

The Tohsaka Master lost his life at the hands of that War’s Saber, the Servant apparently having stormed the Tohsaka estate and murdering him in his study.

That, by the end, only three survivors had survived that war, Velvet included, though the man had seemingly dismissed his survival as having nothing to do with his own talents. The Fourth War’s winner, a bright eyed priest, had simply elected to let him go after Rider had been defeated.

By the time Rider was finished, he seemed almost content, satisfied at the sudden output of all the information he had. He looked at me curiously, almost expectantly, and if not for the fact that I was still busy considering everything he’d said I’d have had something for him.

As it was, there was just too much to take in. How much of what he said was true, how much was not? How much was actionable intel, and how much wasn’t? All three Families had been humiliated by the outcome of the Fourth War, how could such a result have influenced their efforts for this war? If Sakura Matou had been trained in Albion, did that mean that she was capable of drawing forth resources from the Clock Tower much like my own Master? What was the relationship between Matou, Galliasta and Bazett, where they not all from the same organization? Yet Galliasta had hardly ever mentioned the girl, only noting that they were a dying breed, dismissing her from his thoughts entirely.

Rider looked on, amused at the expression on my face, and I was irritated enough by it that I whirled on him.

“If this Waver Velvet had summoned you in your prime.” I began, asking the obvious. “Why is it that you’ve been summoned here as a child, huh? I can’t help but imagine that the fully matured you would have been a significantly more powerful force than what you are now.”

If Rider took offence to my words, he didn’t show it. Despite that, I didn’t like the carefree shrug he gave me as a response. “Who knows? It’s the same catalyst, or so my Sensei claims, so as far as that’s concerned I should have been summoned as Iskandar. Sensei supposes that something about my bond with my Master meant that we simply had greater synchronization with me as a child than as an adult.”

I grimaced. It was a weak, somewhat unsatisfying answer, but I could accept that. A Heroic Spirit’s existence was large enough, wide enough, that for it to be summoned in its entirety onto the physical plane was impossible. That was why we were typically partitioned into categories and class restrictions- a limitation in the summoning system I suppose, but in certain occasions such partitions had curious effects atypical to what one would expect. In this case, for whatever reason, Alexander the Great had been summoned as a child. As he had said earlier, as ‘The Child That Would Be’ rather than the ‘Man Who Was’.

Perhaps Rider had been lied to, and Matou had interfered with his summoning in some way. As much as Sakura Matou was, apparently, one of the last vestiges of the Matou Family, I could certainly believe that she inherited some degree of power or knowledge from her forbearers. Perhaps they were able to affect the summoning circle in some way so as to neuter Rider’s power in favor of greater control over him. An inexperienced child would be easier to control than the bullheadedness of a man fully grown, though that had obviously backfired on them immensely. This boy was likely even more impulsive and unpredictable than the man himself, and I doubted that either his current or former Master would be all that pleased that he had given me such a wealth of information.

Still, these were all thoughts and theories I could afford to think on for another time. At this point, there was one last issue I had to take care of.

Rider looked at me expectantly, satisfaction on his face. “I appreciated that you didn’t take it easy on me. I understand that fighting me in this form would have been difficult for you, but the fact that you went all out against me made me happier than you could possibly imagine.”

“Oh? And why would it have been difficult for me? As small as you are, you’re not that difficult a target to shoot at.”

He seemed confused for a moment, before laughing uproariously again. “T-there it is again! You and that understated humor of yours, it’s quite refreshing! But no, I meant your hang-ups with children.”

I stilled at that, before turning to give Rider my full attention. The boy continued.

“It’s why Sensei’s readings on the subject indicated anyway.” He shrugged. “Modern analysis on the later years of your reign suggested that a lot of your subsequent economic and political policies were done because of the trauma you’d undertaken when you were young. I’m not sure how accurate that all is, but I was afraid that fighting you in this form would have made you gone soft on me.”

I snorted. “Oh yes, I remember those theories. They were picking up steam when I was older, a retrospective on the ‘Kaiserin’, as it were. As though one couldn’t comprehend reasonable and rational departure from the old and decrepit way of doing things without connecting it to some secret, deeper, meaning instead. Complete rubbish and armchair psychology.”

Rider nodded. “Oh I’m sure. I had my own wealth of naysayers and idiots following me around, but in this case I can’t help but wonder if there’s some truth to the rumors.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

“Well…” he began, and I noted a subtle shift in his body. “I’d have imagined that you’d have killed me by now, now that you’ve gotten what easy information you could out of me and that I was no longer of use.”

I chuckled. “Are you so eager to die, Rider? If you were that interested in returning to the Throne then I could certainly oblige you.

“I’m not all that eager, to be honest.” Rider admitted, before the hard glint in his eyes returned. “But I am Alexander the Great, regardless of my form. I am not one to accept this submission, however temporary. I will not insult you by pretending that I would accept an alliance now, not when you’ve defeated me in combat so. That is not a meeting of equals but a meeting between an overlord and her vassal. I have given you the information I feel is fair to you, but now that such information has passed, I tell you in full confidence that it would be best for you to kill me now. Otherwise I would simply return, again and again, intent on evening the score and defeating you as you had defeated me.”

The sudden change in tone, the sudden seriousness in his voice, was sudden enough that I was struck dumb. I didn't quite know what to say to that, and my apparent silence was sufficient to move Rider to action. The boy sighed.

“Very well.” Rider intoned, before closing his eyes. “You had your chance.”

The thunderclap above me was the only forewarning I had of Rider’s resistance. The immediate surroundings were bleached by a tone of purest white, the lightning bolt coming down upon my head. It was the most efficient move he could have taken I’m sure- Rider must have known that if I’d positioned myself in such a way above him, that it was the most optimal way for me to counteract any effort he had to escape. Our prior battle had given each other insight as to each other’s capabilities, and if nothing else Rider had seen me dodge his lightning again and again. He had come to the reasonable conclusion that I did not have the native defense to survive a point blank lightning strike, and in any other situation but the current one he would be right.

My Territory creation was derived from two disparate parts of my own legend. The first, that I had never been defeated in battle, that the land I’d taken had remained my Domain for the rest of my days. The second, that after having been claimed and put under my aegis, the land and its people grew so divergent from the common sense of the world at the time, so intertwined with my will and vision, that my dominance over my territory grew to be taken as absolute and unyielding.

The lightning bolt struck down, melting rubble and setting the remainder of the building aflame. I could tell, clearly, the moment its raw power made contact with my Domain. I envisioned the lightning frying me from the inside out, shattering my shield and crippling me, only for Rider to finish me off with his blade.

Instead, I deemed such phenomena prohibited under my Domain. I felt the mana drain from my stores, more than any amount of usage my computation magic had demanded in my fight with Rider earlier. Taxing, but not greatly so.

If I’d have had more time, the cost would have been further reduced, the output further increased. From my own understanding of my abilities, stacking preconditions were necessary to strengthen the effect of my Domain. My own blood spilled upon the land was one, land taken by force was another, land willingly signed away by submission or agreement even better. It was a frustratingly obtuse spell, and I found the applicable situations wherein it was useful so narrow that it was partly the reason I’d not yet made significant use of it until now.

Yet despite the clumsy nature of the spell, the results were certain impressive. Rider’s lightning curved around my Domain, seemingly repelled by some supreme non conductive material and instead dissipated itself across the ground harmlessly. Yes it ignited the wood below me instantly, yes the thundering aftermath of his lightning nearly rendered me deaf, but not a single inch of my skin or clothes were singed, and I took the moment to glance towards Rider.

His gaze was wide and, his grin even wider, an admiration that went well past the point of amazement. This time, I didn’t give him the chance to figure out an alternative plan, and so I decreed that movement outside my own was prohibited, before subsequently stabbing his gut with a dozen manifested blades. The trickle of mana devoted to the active use of my Domain grew wider as Rider instinctually struggled against my will, but it was still insufficient to break my hold.

A twist of my will, as I forced my manifested blades to explode and riddle his internal organs with shrapnel, further reduced his ability to resist me. The resultant mess was not pretty. The wording of my Proscriptions was such that my will to explode a few dozen blades inside Rider’s gut was sufficient to serve as ‘permission’, and so the entire room was splattered with the Servant’s blood and gore. Rider remained motionless as per my command, his grin still plastered unto his face as I manifested a rifle to aim at his temple.

I had been hesitant to kill him before. Yes there were practical reasons to let him live, at least for the moment, but the vast majority of those very same thoughts were not at all practical. Sympathy, pity, that he appeared as a child. The flurry of irrational thoughts, when I’d never been particularly disinclined to kill before, had me hesitate for longer than I should have.

I had no intention of hesitating now, not when he’d made his intent so clear, not when the possibility of an alliance was no longer possible. If I was to be struck by this inconvenient bout of guilt afterwards then so be it, at least I’d be alive to mope about it.

My finger squeezed, the trigger pulling, which occurred roughly the same time as a bright, crimson, flash blinked at me just outside my vision. A moment later, the bang of my rifle coincided perfectly with an explosion that rocked the building to its foundations, engulfing us both in flames.

Upon reflection after the fact, the building’s destruction still wouldn’t have been sufficient to stop me. Properly constructed, my Domain would have rejected the reality that was the sudden destruction of everything around us, and the space around us would have likely remained intact, thus ending Rider as a threat then and there. But as it was, the Domain I’d installed was a quick and dirty thing, constructed and brought together by blood and blood alone. The floor cracked beneath us, wood obliterated, my blood scattered, and so my will was broken. In the ensuing chaos that followed, I continued to press on the trigger of my gun, bullets moving beyond the keen of mortal armaments to rip Rider into tiny little pieces.

But it was too late. Alexander roared in anguish, the instinctual, biological response to pain unleashed by the sudden departure of my Domain. My bullets found its target, clipping his shoulder, gouging out his chest, but it was not nearly enough. With a sudden flash of light, power that neither Rider nor I could fully resist, he was whisked away. Matou had burned a Command Seal to save his life.

For a moment I simply hung in mid air as the building collapsed all around me, the ravenous flames licking at my shield to no effect. The initial explosion could have harmed me, but the majority of the strike’s effective force had been absorbed by my Domain, leaving only the mundane collapse of the building around me, which wasn’t at all a particularly dangerous to me. I watched for a moment as the blood beneath me boiled away in the burning heat and I took a few moments to compose myself before I flew above the burning wreckage, gazing at the rough direction of that familiar light.

“You’re late.” I growled between gritted teeth. A moment later, Archer’s crimson form appeared onto the neighboring building, a black bow still in his hands. The Servant in Red shrugged.

“My apologies, Rin had me out on a grocery run. By the time I arrived on the scene your battle was over, and I had no idea where you or Rider had gone.”

“And so….what? You randomly decided to open fire on some commercial building in the middle of a populated street? Just for kicks, hmm?”

“Of course not.” Archer lied smoothly, his voice so perfectly enunciated with false indignity that if not for the red curtain of rage currently enveloping my mind I would have admired the man’s confidence. “I saw the lightning bolt fall from the sky, and I reasoned that you were still in combat with Rider. I rather not be accused of being a bad teammate, so I opted to err on the side of caution and assist you as much as I can.”

“By opening fire on where the lightning bolt had hit, on my own location?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” He smiled. “You seem none the worse for wear, and Rider isn’t here. Is he dead?”

I closed my eyes, the growing headache almost turning into a thunderous roar in my head. There were a dozen different thoughts rushing into my mind, all of them violent, none of them helpful. For a moment I felt the temptation to give in to the impulse, to do my very best to gut the man in front of me and skin him alive until he was naught but bones.

But I knew better than that, and so I merely opened my eyes, all sign of my frustration and anger banished. “He escaped. Matou used a Command Seal to rescue him.”

Archer whistled, his bow disappearing as he clapped in apparent approval. “Well, we took a Command Seal from her then? That’s not bad then, is it? All things considered it's lucky that I arrived just in time, huh?"

My patience broke, and I turned away from him. “Tell Rin I’ll be in touch, possibly later tonight. I have prior arrangements that I have to be getting to, and this little side adventure has delayed me long enough.”

“Arrangements with who?”

This time, I turned around to stare at him. Archer stared back, eyes cool and calculating, his gaze seemingly seeing right through me.

How much did Archer know? How much did he suspect? He obviously helped Rider just now, despite the fact that doing so would benefit everyone involved, so why? For a moment I was overcome with a sudden pang of paranoia and anxiety, and I studied his eyes for the telltale citrine eyes that I had sometimes sported in my youth. The sign of corruption, of Being X’s interference.

But then there was nothing, and all I saw was an interfering Servant that had opted to leave me to fight with Rider alone, and to save his life when I had him in my grasp. Fighting him here was a fool’s errand, for all that he was still injured from last night, I’d been drained from my fight with Rider. Archer was privy to my tricks now, and I’d not have the sufficient amount of preparation to set up a Domain to fight from. I could still, possibly, kill him- but the odds were not in my favor.

The only question now was whether the Servant’s interference was via his own initiative, or because Rin had ordered him to.

I turned away from Archer, eyes setting upon dark skies. With a sudden burst of acceleration that not even he could respond to, I flew away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Hope everyone’s been having a good time, and I hope that this chapter was well worth the wait. I am likely to be posting an update plus a little something extra in my Patreon within the next few days, should one be interested.
> 
> Edit: Text was mangled during a part of Archer's conversation. Has since been adjusted.


	29. X. Master

X. Master

It was something of a given for her really, that everyone was born unique, that there was something about a person that was wholly and truly theirs. Whether it be their beliefs, their perspectives or their own experiences, the uniqueness of the human condition was a rather ephemeral thing, one that defied easy categorization, at least in her own, humble, opinion. It naturally meant that everyone had their strengths and weaknesses, that no matter what one saw from the surface, that there was always something more, something interesting, lurking beneath the visage they chose to show to the public.

Of course, it didn’t look that way on the outside. From an outsider’s perspective, people were just too similar. In fact, prove of that belief could be seen by even a casual look at the kind of media produced, the stories that people told about each other. There was the perky talkative one, the silent brooding one, the nerdy intelligent one and so on and so forth. Categorization of others came so naturally to people, even she was guilty of that, every once in a while, though what with being a teacher she tried her best to keep it in check.

She didn’t think that was too much of a problem though, as far as people went, people were just incapable of really seeing things all that clearly. It was inevitable that, what with having billions of people living on the planet at any given moment, truly understanding even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of that number was an impossible task. The human race was ultimately inclined to something of a tribalistic nature, it could reasonably care for perhaps a few hundred individuals at any one point before the brain short circuits and you’re feeling drained and decidedly non-empathic to the masses of humanity just outside your view. It was her perspective that, given the limitations that people ultimately had towards one another, the natural conclusion was to hold tight those people you do love and never let go. Humans were petty creatures, and she was one of the most unapologetically petty of them all, so she was content with that. To live her life, surrounded by people you loved and the people that loved you, isn’t that what everyone wanted in the end?

So, of course, when one of those beloved idiots she cared so much about gets caught in a catastrophic gas leak that blew up his house, it’s only natural to worry right? When that inconsiderate, foolish, little boy disappears for nearly the entire day after, it’s only reasonable for his big sister to fear that he’d somehow died, right? When no reports of any death occurred, obviously she’d do whatever she’d have to so as to secure his safety, and when her grandfather’s goons had dragged that insufferable idiot back to the Fujimura estate the next night, she’d been foolish enough to have been relieved that the idiot somehow hadn’t died.

That relief had only lasted about as long as it took the apologetic looking suits to explain that Shirou was not in grievous pain from the injuries he’d sustained, as she’d previously assumed. In fact, he wasn’t even alone anymore, as he’d brought a woman back with him. Two women, in fact.

Taiga was aware of what a responsible older sister (Not adult, never adult, such a word had no place within a young maiden’s heart) would do. A responsible older sister would take her charge by the hand, comfort him for the undoubtedly traumatic experience he’d gone through, before sending him off to bed with all the relief of a family reunited. A responsible older sister would not have dragged that same boy by the ear, much to the amusement of the Fujimura men around her, shouting and bellowing her frustration and anger for all the world to hear.

But alas, she was only human, with her own strengths and weaknesses. Taiga was unapologetically aware that she was the kind of person who would say passion was both her greatest strength and her greatest weakness while in a job interview, and so as soon as the boy had returned to her grasp the Tiger of Fuyuki wasted no time in outlining just how much she’d worried over him.

The irritating thing was that Shirou hadn’t even attempted to defend himself, merely apologize sadly with that same kicked dog expression that he always had when Taiga worried about him. If he tried to resist, tried to fight back, then at least she’d have the excuse to unleash her worried rage in a more physical manner. But alas, Shirou had always lacked the fire of youth typical of those his age- the boy merely followed her quietly and obediently like some chastised mongrel.

Taiga made no effort to obscure the vein popping from the side of her skull as she stood imperiously above Shirou, possessed of all the authority that outraged family members typically had over their kin. The boy was still in the kneeling seiza position, as Taiga had earlier instructed, and had the kind of hurt, puppy dog, expression that came so easily to him. Taiga, of course, had steeled herself to such nefarious techniques. In most situations such a display of innocent naivety may have breached the impenetrable walls around her heart, but not today! She’d been too angry, too upset and just too damn worried to let him off so easily. She’d have to check to be absolutely sure, but Taiga was positive she’d grown white hairs at some point. White hairs! Her! Completely unacceptable.

Experience of Taiga’s volcanic temper ensured that Shirou knew of his impending demise of course, though he foolishly thought there was still some way out of it. Taiga tried not to let her take that too personally, it was good for the youth (Of which she was one, shut up) to entertain delusions of grandeur. The young should always chase after their dreams, after all.

Though that did not mean they were immune from the consequences of their hubris, as Shirou opened his mouth, a bad move. “Fuji-ne, I’m sorry-”

A loud crack interrupted the boy, his eyes widening in fear as Taiga’s grip on her shinai tightened. The tip of her weapon had slammed into the ground beneath her, the girl’s bearing more similar to a vengeful conqueror than that of a girl in her mid twenties. She graced Shirou with a smile, that seemed just as, if not more, effective than her slamming her weapon into the ground ever had been. At the corner of the room, rough, burly, men clad in dark suits sighed quietly, quite aware of the legendary Fujimura temper and keeping well enough away until it burned itself out in a week or two.

“When the condemned is brought to judgement, the guilty is not to speak out of turn!” Taiga declared, slamming her weapon back into the ground once more, the sound echoing across the private dojo that the Tiger of Fuyuki had appropriated for this less than public execution. Shirou, possessed of a wisdom and intelligence hitherto unseen, simply nodded his head and stayed quiet. A well considered move, considering that had he been anyone else his head would have already been separated from his body in cruel, ruthless, fashion. Yet another head added to Taiga Fujimura’s expansive collection.

Well, not really, but also yes. Taiga was not known to be a rational woman, nor a particularly consistent one.

Still, as much trouble as Shirou was in, he wasn’t her only concern for the night. Dark, umber, eyes flickered over to the boy’s sides, flames of judgement coolly regarding the boy’s companions.

The first woman was unfamiliar to her; a blonde woman in an elegant black dress, seated next to and slightly behind her wayward charge, at his right side. Pale blonde hair matched bright eyes as the woman studied Taiga; an expressionless mask upon her visage that called to mind the image of a doll than that of an actual person, a strange sort of ethereal beauty to the slip of a girl that made her seem almost unreal. Her hands were clasped to her lap, the cool sense of comfort and command she wore like a shroud giving the impression that the woman was in perfect control of the situation. She’d not said anything since arriving in the Fujimura estate, simply walking behind Shirou like some attendant or bodyguard, her presence of will overpowering enough that none of her grandfather’s men had dared bar her path. An unknown quality, one that Taiga had no idea how to even approach given the current situation.

Thankfully, the second woman was much more familiar, even if her presence inspired an irrational degree of irritation. The parish nun was still clad in the raiments of her station, a smile on her lips that seemed almost saintly if not for the shadow of genuine amusement lurking just beneath the surface. Unlike the blonde woman (whose eyes had first scanned the room and her grandfather’s men, before finally settling unto Taiga herself), the nun’s attention remained evenly divided between Shirou and Taiga. The smile on her face, the attention that the nun gave her both, seemed to clearly indicate that Ortensia was greatly enjoying the byplay between the two adoptive siblings.

For a moment, the desire to bully- er, admonish Shirou fought with the urge to stop giving the nun a free show. After some thought, the desire to break Shirou’s will such that he’d never do this to her again gave way to familial solidarity, and Taiga turned on the girl.

“It was one thing to learn that Shirou had been sneaking out of the house to go to church of all things.” Taiga drolled. “But I expected better of you, Miss Ortensia. We all know that Shirou’s an idiot, but as odd as he is, I expected that you’d have enough common sense to compensate for his complete lack of it. If you were with him, then I’d expected him to not do anything stupid, though obviously I overestimated you! Surviving a house accident and waiting almost an entire day to get back to his family seems pretty stupid, doesn’t it?”

Ortensia blinked at the high school teacher’s proclamation, a reaction that drew forth some degree of satisfaction. Admirably, the girl rallied quickly, the nun bowing low, the gesture shrouding her face.

“My deepest apologies, Miss Fujimura.” Ortensia replied, her voice taking on the familiar tone of the truly penitent. “You are right, I should have taken into account Shirou’s lack of common sense. Unfortunately, what with the tumultuous events of the past few days, neither Father nor I had thought to check on whether the boy had informed you of what had occurred. That we had not done so, and thus caused you such concern and undue amount of stress, is truly unfortunate. I should have known better than to presume common sense from him, and so his failure to inform you is more my fault than his.”

“I-I’m right here.” Shirou protested weakly.

“As well you should!.” Taiga nodded in agreement, cheerfully ignoring the boy as she stared the nun down. “Though that doesn’t at all explain why your Parish seemed so busy that I couldn’t be informed. In fact, why couldn’t Shirou had just been sent back immediately, since it doesn’t seem like he’s suffered any injuries.”

Ortensia raised her head and Taiga felt another vein pop by the side of her head as the nun maintained that same damnable smile. “Once again, I deeply apologize. Events within the city had caused Father to not be as present within the parish as would be preferable. The recent disappearances amongst children within the Fuyuki area had deeply concerned him, and he’d deemed it that Shirou was not to leave the Parish until he was accompanied by an adult or until his guardian had come to pick him up.”

Almost instantly, the mood of the room dropped to a chill at the nun’s words. The men by the walls muttered and cursed, their expressions darkening at the girl’s words, even as Taiga narrowed her eyes, the grip of her shinai creaking beneath her hands. The Fujimura family were not, strictly speaking, on the proper side of the law at all times and in all situations. Be that as it may they functioned under that peculiar sense of honor that sometimes gestated amongst what the public called the Yakuza. The kidnapping of a child was a great taboo, one that brought a uniform sense of disgust to those of the clan, and the number of children missing in the past few days had already climbed to the dozens. To the side, the blonde girl merely looked on with impassive, amber, eyes, her focus no longer on Taiga or her goons, but on the red headed boy beside her.

The nun’s words had a peculiar effect on Shirou. Like a light switch, the light behind his eyes seemed to dull, his jaw clenched so tightly it might break apart. Both his hands turned to fists, nails digging into his palms with enough force to draw blood. The nun’s expression hardly changed, her smile still curved in gentle amusement, eyes studying the scene.

Taiga sighed, feeling her anger slipping away as she did. Well what could she say to that? The priest made the right choice in not letting Shirou out without proper supervision, that he wasn’t to leave the premises until Taiga got there. That Shirou hadn’t contacted her at all during that period could easily be explained by his expression- the boy had doubtlessly heard about the abductions and wanted to go out and help. Telling her about what he was up to would have stopped him from going out to help those children, thus in his tiny reptillian brain Shirou had simply not done so, all the while doing what he thought he could to help. Whether what he was doing was of any actual help, stuck in the church as he was, didn’t really matter. Shirou was the kind of boy that would stop at nothing to help people, and if he honestly thought that incurring her wrath for a day or two was the price he had to pay to do so, he’d pay that price without hesitation.

Shirou was so much like his father it hurt to see, so much so that a flood of affection and exasperation flooded into her system, and she sighed again.

Alright, so she couldn’t really get mad at them, but she wasn’t about to let them get off so easily. “And what- your Father went out and about to hunt down whoever’s doing it? Bible in one hand, crucifix in another?”

“Nothing quite so bold.” Ortensia noted, her smile widening, much to Taiga’s displeasure. “He is an old man now, after all. He’s merely following up on certain leads relating to the Ryuudou massacre. Perhaps you would have any information you would like to volunteer?”

Taiga’s eyes narrowed. Her father had, historically, had plenty of public, nearly violent, disagreements with the Ryuudou master. Once, when she’d mustered the energy and curiosity to ask him about it, the elder Fujimura had simply told her that it was due to ‘schoolyard differences from their youth’. Taiga supposed that, after years of watching them butt heads against each other, she’d even could come to believe that. But to the public at large it probably wouldn’t look like some civil disagreement, and while few would outright blame the Fujimura so boldly, most would be thinking it.

For a teenage girl, Ortensia was terrifying to be able to maneuver around like this. Despite herself, she felt a tiny ember of respect for the nun grow, though of course she kept it in check. As much as the two seemed to have gotten close over the years, Taiga wasn’t about to let Ortensia claim Shirou without a fight. At the very least not without throwing Sakura into the ring and watching the blood sport afterwards.

Taiga shook her head, opting not to even entertain Ortensia’s question, before turning to look at the blonde. She seemed to note the sudden attention on her as she turned her gaze away from Shirou to meet her own. Taiga couldn’t help but sigh, had the woman even blinked once seen walking in here?

“And who are you supposed to be, huh?”

The blonde opened her mouth, paused, before glancing over to the other two. The nun seemed to give no sign of having noticed the girl’s attention, and Shirou’s gaze was still on the floor, eyes clouded. After a moment, her gaze flickered back to the woman in front of her, her expression calm and controlled.

“My name is….Elise.” The girl answered, obvious distaste in her tone, though the repugnance did nothing to detract from the elegant cadence of her words. “I’m a recent hire by the Kotomine Parish. In light of the recent goings-on, it was decided that further security was likely necessary so as to maintain the safety of the parish and its flock. As such, when your men arrived, I was compelled to follow and ensure their continued safety.”

Taiga took in her words, closing her eyes and placing a hand to her chin, seemingly deep in thought. This gesture, unfortunately, caused her to miss both Ortensia and Shirou’s reaction, the former glancing over to Elise, brow raised with curiosity, while the latter gaped slightly at the blonde, his dark mood dissipating for a moment. Elise ignored them both, merely waiting patiently until Taiga snapped her fingers with apparent satisfaction.

“I have an idea.” She grinned, looking away from Elise and towards Ortensia. “You’re probably right, in that that with everything going on, erring on the side of caution is a good thing. Yes it would have been a lot better if someone had contacted me immediately, but that wasn’t your fault. Keeping Shirou where he was, away from trouble, was the most important thing and I’m glad he’s alright, now that the trouble’s blown over.”

For the first time since arriving here, the mask of amusement on Ortensia’s face cracked for a moment, a brief flash of concern bleeding into her eyes, before the nun swiftly returned to her regular visage. “Of course. I’m glad that-”

“Let it not be said, that Taiga Fujimura is an ungrateful woman.” She declared, overriding whatever it was that Ortensia was going to say. “Let it also not be said that the Fujimura clan does not appreciate those who help their own. If the parish has been reduced to seeking out young women in order to defend it, then it’s obvious that there’s something wrong going on. I’ll be sending a couple of men over there, to ensure everyone’s safety yeah?”

Ortensia blinked, and for the second time since arriving here, her mask slipped once more. The smile on her lips freezing unnaturally. “T-that won’t be necessary, of course, we appreciate-”

“Nonsense!” Taiga grinned, shinai still gripped in one hand as she bent over, patting the nun on the head. “Little girls like you and Elise really shouldn’t be out and about right now, not when things are so obviously dangerous out there! You two can stay at the Parish, and my grandfather’s men can take care of security concerns while Shirou stays here-”

“That is unacceptable.”

Taiga blinked, eyes curious even as Ortensia’s own had frozen in what almost seemed like apprehension. Shirou, wisely, had slowly been inching forward- moving as quickly as he could without triggering what was likely to be copious amounts of violence. Taiga stood up, her shinai twirling in the air for a moment before settling on her shoulder as she faced the blonde haired girl.

“What was that?” The heir of the Fujimura clan questioned, her tone deceptively light and easy. Elise did not seem to be even the least bit intimidated, merely watching Taiga as one might an insect.

“I said that is not acceptable.” Elise replied calmly. “Your men are insufficient to protect a fortified bunker, nevermind a property as expansive as the Kotomine parish. In addition, separation from Shirou is unacceptable. I must be at his side.”

The murmuring of the men around them seemed to increase at that, and Taiga’s smile grew toothy and dangerous, though she raised an arm to wave her grandfather’s men off. This was not the kind of battle men should interfere with anyway. “Oh they’re not my men, just my family’s. Though why is separation unacceptable, hmm?”

“Because I can protect him better than you ever could.”

At this, Shirou seemed to abandon any illusion of subtlety, scrambling forward to escape the impending warzone. A futile attempt, as a moment later a nearly unidentifiable blur flooded his vision, cracking the wood paneling in front of him with a sharp crack. The tip of Taiga’s shinai sat in front of him, mere inches from his nose, as it radiated a menace and lust for violence matched only by its master.

“Oh? Would you like to test that silly notion with a duel?” Said the dark presence that Taiga Fujimura had become, such that Shirou and the rest of her men shivered with fear. Even Ortensia herself did not seem particularly immune to the dread that the Tiger of Fuyuki seemed to inspire, though the effect on her was notably divergent from the men around her. She seemed to almost coo in delight, eyes sparkling as she beheld the font of rage that was the Fujimura scion.

Elise’s face, by contrast, was devoid of any expression. As indifferent to the current topic and its potential dangers as she would have been had Taiga asked her about the weather. “Only if I may duel with one hand, so as not to injure my Master’s sister.”

The silence after that proclamation was deafening, so total and absolute that Shirou was certain that the stampeding beat of his heart could have been heard in the next room over. Instead, the only sound audible within the dojo the shinai’s wooden handle, creaking and screaming, as it threatened to break beneath Taiga’s iron grip. A curiously appropriate companion piece to Taiga’s low, menacing chuckle.

* * *

"Your sister is truly wonderful, Shirou-kun.” Caren giggled. “I can’t possibly imagine why you kept me from her for so long, she’s such a treat. I wonder if we could become friends?”

“That? That right there?” Shirou mumbled. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want you anywhere near Fuji-ne.”

“Hmm? What was that, Shirou?”

“N-nothing.” The boy breathed out, knowing better than to engage his teacher when she was in such a good mood. “Do you- do you think they’ll be okay in there?”

From a distant door way, the dojo from which the Fujimura men had swiftly and efficiently corralled them out of in anticipation for Taiga and Saber’s duel, Shirou heard a manic, terrible, scream. He was not entirely sure whether or not the scream was derived from rage or pain, though at this point he was just thankful to no longer be in the firing line of Taiga’s rage. The nun shrugged.

“Immaterial, I think.” Caren reasoned. “Your Servant seems seems not the type to toy with her food, though that’s assuming she sees your sister as an enemy to be put down, which is….doubtful. A duel is something else though, and perhaps Saber would treat it more seriously, unless her interest in Fujumura-san would possibly complicate things anyway.”

Shirou blinked at that, turning to Caren with a confused expression. “She was...curious, with Fuji-ne?”

The nun nodded. “Your Servant has a habit of sizing people up, Shirou-kun. She did that to everyone she could see at the Parish last night, and she did it here, what with the guards around us and then to your sister herself.”

She paused, her tone considering, less confident now. “I think she was paying attention because of your sister’s weapon? She could have simply been curious at the swordsmanship of the people in the modern age. Perhaps you could ask her after she’s done?”

“Maybe.” Shirou sighed, forlorn. Caren looked at him oddly, though ultimately saying nothing as she laid back unto the cushioned seat the Fujimura men had prepared for them; a small smile graced her lips as she listened to Fuji-ne’s screams. Shirou, much used to his teacher’s foreboding hobbies, said nothing. The boy closed his eyes, his mind going back to earlier in the day.

“The bond between a Servant and its Master should not be underestimated.” Kotomine Kirei had said, as Caren stood by in the distant corner of the room, the priest walking enthusiastically between the pews as though inhabiting the body of a man decades younger. “One may reasonably expect a Servant to function as a tool, to be used and expended at will, but such a thing can be dangerous depending on the disposition of the Servant involved. To use a Servant from afar, like some distant sovereign to his subjects, is an exceedingly dangerous affair. Better to grow close with your tool, if for no other reason than to recognize its limits and capabilities.”

Shirou had blinked at the time, absorbing Kotomine’s words, before asking a question of his own. The old man had seemed surprised at the question, before an amused smile threatened to form over desiccated lips.

“Was that what I did?” He had said, amused. “Oh no, such a strategy would not have been necessary in my case, I think. Another tried to do as I suggested, Tohsaka Rin’s father, in fact. Yet the man was too proud, and so it failed spectacularly. Something to note, should you face his daughter in combat. My other student is particularly proud of her lineage, mocking her father’s incompetence is quite likely to undermine her and deliver to you an opportunity. An opening, of sorts, that you should consider.”

He had been hesitant at that, though Kotomine seemed to realize his discomfort, and spoke nothing more of it. Shirou had asked another question, which the priest had also answered. “I am suggesting that you utilize Tohsaka Tokiomi’s strategy because you would be better at it. Despite your limitations as a magus, you are genuine in ways that Rin’s father would not have been capable of. In fact, had you been in my former teacher’s position, I believe you would have outperformed him in certain aspects.”

At his curious look, the priest smiled, an expression that sent chills up the boy’s spine. “The King of Uruk had a certain degree of pride, but he had no patience for sycophants and bootlickers. You would have amused him, if nothing else.”

It bothered Shirou, that Caren was capable of noticing and reading Saber better than he could. Part of that was doubtlessly her teacher’s fearsome intuition about people, an intuition eclipsed by Father Kotomine’s own, nearly supernatural, ability to read people, but it was also due to Saber’s own inherent disposition. The Servant of the Sword seemed almost a statue at times, willing and able to do whatever she was ordered to do should Shirou command it. Impassive and implacable, he firmly believed that there was no order she would not obey so as to obey him, a state of affairs that he found distinctly uncomfortable.

He was aware that such a Servant was a massive boon, a powerful, competent and obedient Heroic Spirit that few Masters in the war would ever have thought to pass up, but it still made Shirou uncomfortable. Saber wasn’t a tool, Heroic Spirits weren’t tools. Despite having only been summoned moments earlier, Saber had rushed to his defense without a single command from him, fighting for his sake. A person she’d only just met, and she risked her life fighting for his sake, while he could only stand there uselessly, waiting to be saved.

A robot wouldn’t do that, a mindless doll wouldn’t have done that. There had to be a better way, and he’d close the gap between Saber and himself as much he could. Father Kotomine was right after all, bonding with one’s Servant made the most sense, but to treat them as simple tools just didn’t sit right with him. So he just wouldn’t do it, simple as that, though he’d probably have to apologize to the priest for defying his teachings once this was all over.

He wasn’t here to really ‘win’ the war per se, he just wanted to save people. He didn’t want to kill anyone, even if the rules insisted that he had to, and so he’d figure out his own way through the war. That much was true, no matter what else happened.

“Oh? It seems that my student is thinking about unnecessary things again.” Caren remarked dryly, prompting the boy to jerk suddenly from his thoughts, an apologetic smile on his lips that drew a long suffering sigh from his teacher.

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it.” He chuckled. “Just thinking about things.”

“‘Nothing to worry about’, he says.” His teacher scoffed. “Please. You thinking about things is nearly as dangerous as you not thinking about anything at all. I would ask that you refrain from keeping things to yourself, that way any dangerous thinking you could be entertaining would be shorn from your mind before it became too problematic.”

Shirou smiled, though the expression quickly fell as his eyes grew clouded once more. “You don’t want me keeping things to myself?”

“Of course.” Caren affirmed, a note of exasperation in her tone. “Better than to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, wondering what you’d done this time.”

There was a pause, long enough for his teacher to realize that something was wrong, before the boy spoke again.

“Then was what you said true? About the disappearances.”

Caren blinked for a moment, seemingly considering her words, before nodding. “Yes, they’re true. I wasn’t merely saying that to scare your precious Fuji-ne off.”

“How many?”

She feigned ignorance. “How many what?”

“How many children have gone missing since the war started?”

At that, Caren paused, taking in Shirou’s form. He wasn’t quite shaking with rage just yet, but it was a close thing. The boy’s eyes were wide and distant, his fingers digging into the wraps around his hands that she’d just set for him. He was shivering, like the distant loss of those children, the pain and fear they were undoubtedly experiencing right now, were all so very personal to him. Like they were knives, digging into his sides, rendering him incapable of doing anything else but turn his attention to them with a sharp focus beyond that of any normal human being.

But he wasn’t normal was he? Caren had known that from the very beginning, though that hadn’t been a particularly unpleasant state of affairs for her. She was aware that she wasn’t normal, that there was something wrong with her, something not quite well in the mind that she inherited from her father. It was an emotional deadness to her soul, one that could only be swayed and fanned by watching the emotional impulses of others. Worse, it could only be livened by the very worst of human impulses. Their pain, their suffering, their despair.

And Shirou’s own struggle now was just oh so fascinating, wasn’t it? Like a trainwreck in slow motion, or the mounting fear from those about to perish in a plane crash, his reactions were like a drug to her, one she couldn’t quite avert her gaze from even if she wanted to. Then, parallel to that appeal, was the curiosity she harbored for what would happen if she pushed him just a little. Just enough to bring him to the edge, to allow him to push himself over, to feel things that she never could, to live vicariously through him.

“Since the formal start of the war last night, twenty seven children have disappeared.” Caren breathed out, her words causing Shirou to flinch, for his breathing to turn ragged. She pressed onward. “If one included the unusual jump in disappearances over the past two weeks and presumed they were being done by certain factions in the war, the number jumps to two hundred.”

There was a sudden crashing, the sound coming from the dojo as Taiga wailed in despair. Shirou paid it no mind, his eyes drilling into the wall opposite him with such intensity it was a wonder it hadn’t yet burst into flame.

“Why?” He ground out. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Within the myriad of lore regarding magecraft, children are considered pure.” Caren murmured, her hand slowly reaching out to his shoulder. Her student did not resist. “If one were to consider human sacrifice as a potential move in securing an advantage in the war, it would be an attractive proposition.”

“Attractive? Attractive to who?” Shirou snarled, his eyes drawing away from the wall to sear Caren with his gaze. Her breath hitched in her throat. “What kind of a monster would do such a thing?”

Caren blinked, her conscious mind halfheartedly keeping her words in check. Despite that, she couldn’t help herself, and spoke again.

“Shirou-kun.” Caren smiled warmly, his rage contrasting sharply with the serene expression on her face. “In this war, I would hazard a guess that the only one unwilling to do such a thing, would be you.”

He flinched back from her, as though her words had seared him badly. A part of her was almost hurt at the way he withdrew from her, though the rest of her did not mind at all. A small price to pay, though she felt the slowly burgeoning weight of guilt to slowly drag her heart down to the bottom of her stomach.

Her Father was a bad influence on her. Shirou was a bad influence on her. Despite that, Caren was finding it more and more difficult for her to care about all that.

The door to the dojo opened, and Saber walked daintily out, a shinai in her hand that had seemed brand new mere minutes ago, now riddled with a variety fracture marks all across the wood. The Servant of the Sword studied it with interest, eyes seemingly enthused by the design of the blade as the Fujimura men parted at her approach like livestock to an apex predator. Behind her, Taiga Fujimura lay in an unconscious heap, the scion of the clan choosing to be beaten unconscious than to yield.

“An interesting fight.” Saber considered, before dropping her spent weapon to the ground, the wooden blade shattering beneath her heel. Not a hair on her head seemed out of place, nor the clothes she manifested even the slightest bit torn. “Your sister is a remarkable woman, Master. I would cherish her, though I would strictly admonish her first. Her concern for you is noted, though the degree by which she presumes much from you is unnecessarily grating and limiting. We cannot prosecute this war trapped indoors.”

Shirou chuckled, the sound of his voice the slightest bit brittle. Saber’s gaze turned briefly to Caren, eyes narrowed. The nun, for her part, said nothing as she matched gazes with the Servant. A moment later, Saber dismissed her from her gaze, before her hand reached out, taking her Master by the chin and raising his gaze to her’s.

Her action seemed to draw Shirou from his malaise, and he blinked for a moment, before blushing at the sudden closeness. “Ah- Saber, I-”

“Yesterday was devoted so as to bring you up to speed, Master.” Saber murmured, her tone a curious blend of confidence and subservience that Caren couldn’t help but admire. “Today is a different matter. With your sister out of the way, and the night open to us, would you have a new directive for me?”

Saber’s words seemed to strike Shirou dumb for a moment, before a newfound sense of confidence surged into the Master’s being, and he nodded. Satisfied, Saber drew back, kneeling in front of Shirou like some courtly knight, drawing an embarrassed blush from her Master. From the hallway behind her, the Fujimura men were doing their absolute best not to even glance towards the conversation. A woman somehow more fearsome than the Tiger of Fuyuki was not someone they wished to cross.

“I uh- Saber, you really don’t-”

“What are your orders, Master?” Saber murmured serenely, her gaze pointed locked to the ground just ahead of Shirou’s feet. The boy seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze switching from the prostrating Servant to the amused nun, before he eventually came to a decision.

“Stand, Saber.”

She seemed to pause at that, before gracefully rising to her feet. For all that she was a magnificent engine of terror and destruction, Saber was still a waif of a girl, standing slightly below Caren in height, much to the nun’s amusement. Shirou’s gaze hardened, a determination flowing into his eyes.

“There are people out there, other Masters, hunting and kidnapping children.” He whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “We’re going to find them, we’re going to stop them. Is that understood?”

It took a moment for Saber to speak, her gaze considering, before she nodded. “By your will, Master.”

A moment later, she paused again. “Though, if I may have a request?”

Shirou brightened at that, the boy about to speak before a loud growl emanated below him, earning a look of confusion from both Shirou and his teacher. Saber, face remarkably blank, coughed.

“May we eat on the move, Master?” Saber asked aloud. “I would like to try out the cuisine of this time and while I do not need to eat, I would find it pleasurable nonetheless.”

Shirou chuckled, his mood brightening considerably. Perhaps things would work themselves out in due time. “Sure, why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A momentary change of pace, as we ramp up to the next arc. I liked this chapter, significantly easier to write than previous chapters and interludes, and one just can't have enough Salter in one's diet.


	30. 4.0 Condemnation

4.0 Condemnation

The flight from Mount Miyama all the way to that roadside cafe Einzbern and I agreed upon didn’t take all that long as far as magical flight was concerned, but it wasn’t all that short either. If I really wanted to, I could pulse my flight as I did when rescuing Isabel the night prior and arrive there immediately, but I was leery inviting any more unwanted attention than I already had. As such, a more sedate, though nonetheless swift, pace would do just fine. A travel time of an hour or two via car, traffic permitting, executed within minutes. The only immediate downside was that, what with magical flight being effortless to me, travel towards that cafe gave me far too much time alone with my thoughts.

It wasn’t all bad, I think. The interrogation with Rider was immensely fruitful, in that the boy had talked his mouth off with nearly no prompting necessary on my end. He was delusional and insane of course, mouthing off about fairness in war and all that nonsense, but what was I to do then? Interrupt his waterfall of information to correct my more-than-likely enemy from making a mistake? For a so called strategic mastermind, the King of Conquerers was remarkably naive, though perhaps that was due more to the era in which he lived than anything else. Humans are formed from their environment after all- if Alexander of Macedonia was a foolhardy dreamer with delusions of grandeur, then he had developed that way due to his upbringing acclaiming such foolishness. Even accounting for that though, he was remarkably singular; with the ability to spout off nonsense with such confidence and surety, it was not at all surprising that he convinced thousands to follow him.

Perhaps that immaturity could be directed towards the form in which he was summoned. He himself had admitted to not having fully grown yet, and it showed in his actions. Brash, hungry and foolish, if there was a better poster boy for youthful impertinence and impulse derived foolishness, I’d not seen one yet. It was definitely possible that he’d eventually outgrown such foolish, dangerous, notions in good time, one’s youth did not dictate one’s future after all, but somehow doubted it. Alexander the Great had died relatively early in life, and judging by how his kingdom fractured after his death, that youthful idiocy had not likely matured into the measured consideration necessary to lead a multinational polity..

The wind fluttered through my hair as I cut through the sky. Standard computational spells typically shielded an operator from the most immediate downsides of traversing through the air at mach speeds, but I’d opted to manually reduce such functions. The storm clouds from my fight with Rider had swiftly dissipated following his defeat, leaving a rather spectacular view I intended to enjoy. The stars slowly revealing themselves to a blank and empty sky, the city below glittering in artificial light to match the shine of the heavens above. The frost still had its grip on the city, my breath fogging up the air as the sight of that lonely little cafe, so far away from civilization, began to be visible at the farthest range of my vision.

No, the initial interrogation had proceeded perfectly well, it was my subsequent handling of the situation after Rider was no longer of use that vexed me so. 

The other Servant had professed an unwillingness to parlay and negotiate. More to the point, he’d admitted to committing to a posture of active aggression. The boy, for whatever reason, saw me as a target and a threat. Without the restraining effect that a diplomatic posture could have on the boy, it meant that he had become a threat I needed to eliminate quickly. A singular Servant dedicating themselves to fighting me was concerning enough, but for that Servant to enjoy the backing of the Matou family? Considerably more concerning; the best thing to do in that case was to kill the boy and negotiate for a position with the Matou Master afterwards. Yet despite all that, I hesitated. 

The initial delay was excusable in that extracting information from the boy was well worth certain risks, but once that was done I’d simply not done enough to ensure his defeat. Oh yes I achieved grievous harm on his body, that much was certainly accomplished, but it was no killing blow. Other methods were more effective, though possibly blunted by Rider’s own inherent resistances; I doubted that I would be able to overwhelm his native magic resistance with explosions for example, but in a setting wherein I held all the cards I should have still tried to thoroughly identify both the efficacy of my own abilities and Rider’s own weaknesses to it. While under the influence of my Domain, he would not have had the opportunity to escape, and I would have been able to take my time in ensuring his death. Servants were hardy creatures, I doubted that even a broken neck or partial dismemberment would be enough to keep us down should they receive immediate medical attention, especially taking to account Command Spells used in a restorative fashion. With the breadth of abilities available to me, I should have been able to do _something_. That my blades were sufficient to break through his physical shell was all well and good, but I should have taken advantage of his weakness even further. Did his magic resistance mean an immunity to my explosions, or merely a blunted effect? Would it have burned him? Seared him? Crippled him? Or perhaps my own ability was greater than his, and I could have killed him outright without further ado.

These were things I _should_ have been thinking about, once Rider had set himself against me. Of the information available in the Tohsaka Library, reports regarding Servant to Servant combat were irritatingly vague. It was a gap in my knowledge of Servant to Servant combat that had to be addressed- eventually, I was going to meet someone, fight someone, from which conventional combat would be next to useless. Whether it was Saber with her outstanding Magic Resistance or an unknown threat as presented by Berserker or Assassin, I couldn’t rely on my fighting instinct and native skills when overwhelming force is brought to bear against me.

A time constraint to that encounter was apparent of course, shorter even than I expected what with the subsequent interference, but that shouldn’t have _really_ mattered. There were methods and contingencies I could have performed to completely ensure Rider’s death, and if I’d acted swiftly and mercilessly, even Archer’s involvement would not have saved the boy in time. The fact that he escaped was less due to Matou’s timely use of her Command Spell nor Archer’s interference, but more due to my own ineptitude and incompetence. 

Which was another problem, now that I had the distance to think about it. I _could_ see the red robed Servant’s actions as a well meaning attempt to save my life, but I found myself doubting that. A Servant with such talented long range abilities would most likely be coupled with a means by which to see from afar- it would be a remarkable Archer indeed that could fire so far yet be so blind. On top of that, the Tohsaka Servant did not seem like the type to act on reflex. He was a tactical, even minded, sort; if he had concluded that firing on my position was the best course of action available to him, then rest assured that he would have thought deeply about the matter before committing to such an action.

Which brought to mind the immediate question of why? There was certain precedent for it, it was only yesterday that we were fighting to the death after all, and I was certain that the injuries I’d inflicted upon him then was still hurting. If his motive was revenge, however, then he’d executed it poorly- if one of the Archer class had intended to grievously hurt or kill me, surely he could have done something better than merely obliterating the same floor I was in. Then in the aftermath, Archer did not seem particularly incensed or dispeleased by the outcome of his blow. If anything else, he was mocking me, shamelessly using the ambiguity of the act to pretend closeness. Doubtless his question as to where I was going was another jab; he was there when I’d received that call from Einzbern, he’d know who I was talking to. The odds were good that he would return to inform his Master that I was to meet with the Einzbern Master, or that he was threatening me with that information in any case. I could see no other reason why he would comment upon it so blatantly after all, if not as a warning.

Regardless, this was all supposition and theories; all of which paled in comparison to the likely certainty that, unless I were to uncover information to the contrary, that his intent had been to free Rider.

The possible reasons for why Archer had done so were too numerous to count, but the barest implications for him having done so were dire. If the Tohsaka Archer had deliberately intervened and saved the Matou Rider, then that indicated nothing less than an agreement had formed between the two parties. Not necessarily an alliance, not if Archer had intervened only as far as rescuing Rider and not in turning on me, but certainly on friendlier terms than what had initially been considered. Neither was Tohsaka aiming to eliminate Rider and I for contention; with the advantageous position Archer had, there was a non-zero possibility that he had some ranged attack that could serve to fatally wound or cripple me whilst killing Rider completely. 

Too many uncertainties, too many unknowns, and none of this would have occurred had I simply taken the straightforward path and murder the boy given the opportunity. I grit my teeth, my palms itching in irritation as I clenched my fists, the wintery air melted away as my shields reformed around me.

I would never have made mistakes like this in my youth. Once was harmful enough, but if I were going to make consistent failures again and again when faced with difficult decisions, then I might as well end myself now and save everyone the trouble. Truly, I have no idea what was wrong with me; had I developed some severe mental handicap in life that had carried itself onward past my death? Perhaps something had gone wrong with my incarnation? I knew that it was possible for Masters to adjust their summoning circle so as to achieve a specific result, such modifications would allow one to summon a Berserker according to the Tohsaka texts, but would more subtle modifications be possible? Was that why I was weaker now, less ruthless now, that acts I’d perpetrated in my youth without a care in the world left me hesitating in key moments?

The cafe was now extremely close, the lights and sounds of the city well behind me, and I began to decelerate my approach. I was not so absentminded and thoughtless as to land right in front of the doorway of course- that would create all the expectation and attention I would _not_ want when meeting with the Einzbern Master, and so I simply landed some distance away. The ground shifted beneath my boots, my uniform evaporating away as I once again wore the dress from my outing with Rin.

For a moment, I debated internally as to whether I should wear the second set of clothing the concubines had prepared for me, before snorting at myself in derision. Yes, that certainly _was_ something worth thinking about when meeting with the Master of Berserker, whether my dress code was up to stuff. I shook the thought away with contempt.

Whether the Matou or the Tohsaka had formed an alliance or not was immaterial. In the end, all this politicking was merely a means to secure an advantage- should two of the three Families have joined hands, then it would not be _too_ bad. The Matou Servant would be injured for quite some time, unless they wished to expend valuable Command Seals to ameliorate his wounds. The same goes for Tohsaka, though Archer’s own wounds would have healed to some degree as well. If they had not joined forces, and this was merely some grave misunderstanding, then I could verify that the next I spoke with Rin.

The same was not true of the Matou. The next time I’d see Rider, there would be no more cute conversation. I would grind his bones to dust and watch him die before the war was over, if for no other reason than that he’d escaped me the first time. Weakness was unforgivable on the battlefield, and that this Heroic Spirit in the guise of a child had uncovered such infirmity within me was irritating beyond all measure.

Invigorated, I pushed any further thought regarding the Matou and the Tohsaka out of my mind. They’d taken more than enough of my attention for today, and I had no intention of allowing either of them to distract me from my meeting with the Einzbern.

There was a single figure awaiting me at the cafe’s entrance. Dressed in clothing that seemed equal parts nun habit and maid uniform, hints of silver hair peaking out from her headdress as crimson eyes observed me coolly. It took a moment for me to recall where I’d seen her last, though once it arrived I felt somewhat embarrassed that I had forgotten in the first place. What with the files on hand and sending my team to ghost her in the first place, a simple change of clothing shouldn’t have been enough to confuse me. Then again, it had been a very eventful day and, if nothing else, she was substantially closer to me than the last time I’d seen her.

“Leysritt of the Einzberns, if I don’t miss my guess?” I smiled towards the girl, recalling the name that Ilya had given her. “A pleasure to meet you, may I presume your mistress is within the premises?”

I waited for a moment, only to receive no response. Seconds passed with me smiling, long enough that I imagined the Einzbern maid was deliberately attempting to stonewall me, before a reaction finally occurred. The maid jerked in place, as though having nodded off for a moment, before ruby red eyes turned their attention to me with all the speed and urgency of an anemic turtle. She held my gaze for several seconds, by which point my smile had turned the slightest bit strained, before sedately blinking. A moment afterwards, recognition flooded into her eyes, and she turned the rest of her body to my direction, before gracing me with a curtsy.

“Tanya von Degurechaff.” Leysritt mumbled, before rising up again. “Reborn into the Caster class. I welcome you, the mistress awaits you inside.” 

“Thank you.” I nodded. In conventional circumstances I might have attempted small talk but, what with my lateness, I had no intention of earning any more of the Einzbern’s wrath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

The homunculus watched me, a gaze that was both considering and puzzled, her attention concerning enough that I paused for a moment, taking in her reaction. She seemed to note my reaction, still in that tepid, nearly glacial, pace, and stepped aside to allow me entrance.

The outside of the cafe had glass along the building’s outer walls in that partly cozy, partly utilitarian, way that modern establishments typically gravitated towards. As such, it was quite possible for me to peek into the cafe while walking to it, only to find that the inside was completely devoid of people, though well lit and seemingly functional as usual. I hesitated for a moment, turning to look at Leysritt, who now had a look of concentration as she frowned and stared at the floor, before I reached for the doorway and stepped inside.

Immediately, I was hit by a wave of nausea and fear, a suffocating miasma of madness echoing from within the building and exploding within my mind with almost physical force. It seemed almost like a mental attack, an influence built to inspire panic and horror, to force the opposition into losing self control, to revert back into an animal instinct. Despite that, I felt that such an effect was merely incidental to the truth of such an effect, that it was merely the consequence of the sheer bloodlust emanating from within; a killing pressure so total and overwhelming that it was only by the barest margins of my will that I did not manifest my uniform to prepare myself for battle.

As overwhelming as the pressure may be, it wasn’t all too surprising. Berserker had cast its attention to me much like this when last we’d been here, overwhelming me with this very same sensation for the briefest of moments before it had withdrawn. It was not nearly so severe as this though, from which I could only presume was by Einzbern’s order; an attempt to intimidate or punish me. It was certainly a unique negotiating tactic, in execution if not concept, but I was far too experienced a negotiator to allow simple intimidation tactics to overly affect me.

“Ah, I remember now. What I was supposed to tell you.” Leysritt remarked, eyes brightening, her tone showing only the briefest moment of triumph. “The young miss is very upset with you.”

With masterful self control, I prevented myself from saying something rather impolite at the maid, and simply gave her a smile. “Ah, well. Thank you for the warning.”

Whatever it was she was going to say, or whether she’d say anything at all, was lost I entered the cafe. Casual observation of the establishment confirmed what I’d seen outside, that it was largely empty; though with the advantage of actually being within the premises itself, I was able to see that there was yet another Einzbern maid waiting for me inside. She was near identical to the first, though significantly more animated, if her look of distaste from behind the counter was any indication. She had manners though, in that she did a brief curtsy before directing my attention onwards, sparing not even a word to me as I followed her gesture. 

There, seated by the same balcony table that we’d been seated at last, a platter of half eaten pastries before her and a baleful glare set upon me, the Master of the Einzbern viciously stabbed her fork through a strawberry shortcake. The girl had different clothing from the last time I saw her, a white ensemble that matched the blonde hair and sapphire eyes that she still sported. Cutting apart a rather sizeable portion of the sugary treat, Illyasviel munched upon the shortcake with all the savage impatience and wrath of a woman scorned. A moment later, and some panicked gulps of tea as she choked down the presumably overly large piece of cake, Ilya set her plate aside and stared at me expectantly. She was doing admirably well not to reveal the extent of any humiliation she might have felt, though part of that was obscured by an elegantly crafted handkerchief softly dabbing upon her lips. Nonetheless, common sense and basic survival instincts warned me off as to making an easy mistake like commenting upon it as I closed the distance between the two of us.

Every step towards her was more difficult than the last, the miasma of madness seemingly growing the closer I was to her, though I allowed none of that difficulty to show on my face. Einzbern watched me imperiously, her brow slightly crinkled, until I finally stood a handful of paces away. I placed my hand over my heart, and bowed slightly.

“Good evening, Miss-.” 

There was a flash of danger there, of irritation turned to anger, before I smoothly transitioned out of her family name. “-Ilya. I apologize for my lateness, it truly is inexcusable and I would accept any punishment you would deem appropriate.

Thankfully, my voice was remarkably clear of any trepidation I felt at the Einzbern’s monster, which I found myself rather pleased by. Einzbern seemed much less appeased by that, crinkling her nose in a gesture of distaste that would have been insulting if not plastered unto a little girl’s face. As it was, she was more adorable than anything else.

“I was taught manners, you know.” The Einzbern Master huffed, the contents of her teacup sloshing dangerously as she pushed it roughly onto her saucer. “I was also taught that one must _never_ keep a lady waiting, even if its another lady! People have died for less egregi-egereg- for worse crimes than yours!”

I adopted a look of regretful penitence. “My deepest apologies madam. .You’re quite right, my behavior is inexcusable.”

“Quite right it’s inexcusable.” She huffed further, crossing her arms and looking away from me. Despite the comical sight of her frustration, the worrying miasma of bloodlust only deepened. “Despite that, I would love to hear of any excuse you’ve manage to fabricate anyway. Maybe if it’s suitably entertaining, I’d make sure Berserker wouldn’t make you suffer _too_ much.”

For a moment, I considered that. My brief interactions with the Einzbern Master suggested a mercurial temperament further exacerbated by her high position. Unlike the Matou and Tohsaka, both of whom seemed to have suffered significant degrees of decay from constant rigors of fighting in the Holy Grail War, the Einzberns seemed to have retained much of their influence and power, at least on the surface level at least. That they treated this girl, their hope for this war, with all the benefits and powers that they could muster so far away from Europe indicated their high acclaim for her.

Which was to say, odds were good that she was spoiled and sheltered. The Einzbern Master would not be used to being denied what she wanted, and so one could reasonably conclude that if she _truly_ wanted to punish me for my lateness, she would have done so already. Neither did she seem the type to rely on subterfuge or surprise, if she’d intended on turning this entire cafe into so much splintered wood, she would have sent Berserker after me the moment I stepped forth into the establishment. Then again, that also meant that Ilya wasn’t kidding when she threatened me with Berserker’s wrath. I was not so fresh that I was confident of fighting yet another Servant in such close quarters, but the fact that I was warned at all was still a point in my favor.

As such, my predicament was bad but not entirely unsalvageable.I made a show of considering her words, tapping my fingers against my arm as Einzbern tried very, very, hard not to show that she was paying all that much attention to my words. “A minor tussle. I was intercepted by Rider on the way here, and so was forced into combat.”

Ilya harrumphed. “Is that all? You’re Tanya von Degurechaff, no two bit Rider from some half forgotten lineage would have been sufficient to stop you if you were really all that determined. You’re not just using that incident as an excuse to abandon me, were you?”

Despite having prepared myself for the likeliest response the girl could throw at me, I was still taken aback. She wasn’t kidding, surely? My reputation amongst my countrymen might have been severely overinflated, but not even she could buy into my notoriety so thoroughly that she took it as a given I would destroy my enemies? It was certainly flattering, in that rather bizarre way you felt when a stranger presupposes you to be far more competent than you really were, but it also led into curious insight regarding Ilya’s own perspective of me. I’d presumed that, what with controlling what appeared to be an obscenely powerful Berserker, that Einzbern wouldn’t be a promising target as a new Master. But if her regard for me was so high that she presumed victory as the established way of things, I may have greater odds with her than I’d initially realized.

“Of course not, I’d been looking forward to this all day.” I lied, smiling ruefully. “But unfortunately it wasn’t that simple; the Rider was a man of some renown, and my battle with him was significantly more challenging that one would expect. Still, I bested him, but if not for Matou expending the use of a Command Seal to force a retreat we’d be down to Six Servants by now.

All technically true, none of which were deliberate deception, only calculated misdirection. Ilya nodded slowly at that, returning her attention to her cake as she gouged out a much smaller slice, before returning it to her mouth. 

“I schwee.” She remarked with her mouth full, considering my words. A moment later her eyes widen as she quickly swallowed her cake, before turning her gaze towards me once more, incredulity swiftly turning to outrage.

“The Matou? Rider is the Matou Servant? Wait, she _dared_ try to kill you before our date!?!”

Despite the uncertainty surrounding the other two families, it was nevertheless a calculated risk to reveal that I’d made some form of contact with them. There was still the possibility that I’d serve one of the Families as a Servant after all, and so suggesting that the Matou were the reason for my less than timely arrival would likely cause knock on effects that would be rather difficult to predict. It would be even more problematic should the Three Families be in any position to speak with each other, as I’d so opportunistically omitted the fact that I was travelling with the Tohsaka Master at the time;

However, even considering all that, I think it was a worthwhile deal regardless. Setting the Einzbern against Matou, especially with her Servant so injured, put Rider in a prime position to be knocked out of the war. In fact, if Matou managed to escape Einzbern’s reprisal, then it would force the girl’s hand vis-a-vis forming a contract with me. She might hesitate at establishing a link with the person that severely injured her Servant, but compare that with the likeliness of being butchered by the Einzbern Berserker? She would have to accept my help if she sought to survive, which would finally allow me to break my contract with Galliasta.

I doubted that Einzbern would have a happy reaction to figuring all that out, should the dust settle, but that was a problem I was willing to sign off to my future self. 

“I doubt very much that the Matou Master had any idea of our prior arrangements, Ilya.” I cautioned gently, even as the girl seemed to grow more and more incensed. If I squinted, I think I could see steam blowing out of her ears. “The sudden storm from earlier was due to my fight with Rider you see, as Matou had summoned Alexander the Great to her side.”

Contrary to what I’d expected from that revelation, Ilya laughed. It was an innocent sound, subverted only by the barest traces of contempt lurking between the lines. “Hah! Alexander the Great, that failed attempt? It seems that the Lord El Melloi II had far greater ties to Sakura Matou, if he was willing to lend her his precious catalyst.”

Any reaction to _that_ would reveal more than I was willing to give, especially as it would prompt Ilya into questions of how exactly I knew that information. As such, I settled for polite curiosity- “Failed attempt?”

“He was summoned in the previous war.” Einzbern shrugged, waving away the question as immaterial before nodding towards the seat opposite her, which I took with grace. “It doesn’t matter, but that _woman’s_ impertinence would not be allowed to stand. First stealing time away from me and my brother, and now this? Oh she’ll get what’s coming to her, I assure you.”

Ilya darkened at that, a notable look of displeasure cast unto her face before disappearing as quickly as it emerged. She graced me with a smile, clapping in ill-concealed joy.

“Okay, I forgive you.” She began, giving an excited look to one of the nearby maids, who merely sighed before disappearing somewhere towards the kitchen area. What remained of the dark atmosphere, courtesy of Berserker, also dissipated completely, leaving only the less than subtle awareness that I was still being watched. “Since I’m _assuming_ you’re not lying to me, and that everything you said about Matou and how she delayed you is true, then I guess I can’t really be mad at you. I’ll save that for Matou then, you could join me if you like!”

“I would be honored.” 

Ilya giggled at that, before freezing for a moment, and casting a suspicious look at me. “I’m still irritated that you were late though.”

I gave a smile at that, causing another flurry of giggles, before I leaned back onto my seat. The immediate threat, at least, was over now. “I would be more than willing to make it up to you, of course. It would only be fair, would it not?”

Her ears perked at that and she leaned closer, her attention fully upon me now. “And how would you ‘make it up to me’, exactly?”

I shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. I can tell that you’ve likely been planning this meeting a while, if for no other reason than that you’d rented out the property for-”

“Rent?” Ilya gagged. “Tanya please, what do you think of me, the Tohsaka? I bought it out- the service was commendable and the food was actually palatable, which is more that can be said for _most_ of what I saw in this miserable city.”

Well, the only real response I could give to that was to smile, hoping that Ilya would interpret the gesture in a positive way. It seemed to work in any case, as the girl gave a bright smile of her own before handing me one of the few untouched cakes left on the table. Thankfully it was a favorite of mine, a simple cheesecake, which I dug in with some relish.

Oh yes, I could certainly get used to this. Working with Galliasta certainly empowered me with his men and resources, but that wasn’t the same as saying it was comfortable for me to work with him. The man was a distant taskmaster, and while I couldn’t imagine him abusing his position over me so as to cause me any undue distress, neither could I imagine him slicing me a piece of cake as we enjoyed teatime together. Honestly, such comfort was wasted on Berserker, who seemed if nothing else to be a mindless brute.

Yet it was strong, that much was certain. At least if the constant miasma of eternal violence that seemed to follow him around like a particularly pungent odor was any indication anyway. What Heroic Spirit could the Einzbern have possibly summoned to generate such a reaction? That she kept him hidden suggested that catching sight of Berserker might clue me in to its origins, but that was a weak lead at best. _That_ particular class was not especially known for rational behavior; it could simply be that Einzbern knew her Servant would have little to nothing to contribute to the discussion, and was simply retaining it as a useful bludgeon in cases where raw intimidation was useful.

“So-” Ilya began, fork in hand as she began gouging out more pieces of her shortcake. “I have an idea, several actually.”

I smiled, turning away from my treat as I did. “I’m all ears.”

“Alright. Well first of all, as part of your punishment, you’ll be hanging out with me for the rest of the evening, not that spending time in my presence is any sort of punishment.” Ilya preened. “My handlers have decreed that tonight is the night for me to ‘make my presence known’ across the city, so I want you with me while we do that.”

I paused at that, before speaking out. “I would not mind accompanying you of course, but I’ll have to admit to being somewhat concerned about doing as you suggested. You and your Berserker would not fear the efforts of the other contestants in the war, but what with my class and limitations, I don’t have that same defense. Any of the other Servants could take one look at me and realize who I am, it’s far better for me to operate in the shadows.”

Ilya narrowed her eyes at that. “You’re not trying to go back on your word now, are you Tanya?”

“Of course not.” I smiled, calming ruffled feathers as best as I could. “Only that if we were to have the rest of the night together, constantly fighting against the other Servants would be rather tiresome, especially if the intent would be to spend time together. Rider was also far more potent an adversary than I initially expected, so I don’t believe I’m quite at a hundred percent to fight by your side.

Something in my words seemed to spark an odd degree of attention from Ilya, enough so that she seemed to sober near instantly, her gaze studying me with a rather unnerving intensity. “Not at all what I’d expected you to say.” She murmured quietly to herself.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” Ilya shrugged, before smiling once more. “I’ve got a lot of freedom to decide on what to do tonight, it should be enough that I make waves, so I don’t mind being a bit more subtle if you want. Though if you think we’re skipping out on combat of _every_ kind, that’s just not gonna happen. That won’t be any fun after all!”

She moved on after that, the rather disconcerting announcement left in the dust from Ilya’s rather speedy tempo. “We’re not gonna be fighting _every_ Servant of course, only the ones that try to fight back. We’ll be mostly saying hi, if nothing else- oooh! Maybe we could keep Berserker in reserve and have you pretend to be my Servant, wouldn’t that be great? We’d be _so_ cute together!”

Ilya continued on, and I was fast recognizing that my input wasn’t quite as necessary for this conversation as I initially thought. “Still, I can imagine a few that would try to pick a fight with us. There’d be the Matous of course, then the Tohsakas, maybe those Clock Tower magi as well-”

Suddenly she paused at that, her mood sinking to well below freezing so quickly that I couldn’t help but voice my concern. Ilya shot up at that, giving me a cold smile, before clapping her hands.

“Oooh, I just remembered something. Do you recall when I called you that one time? When I was really, really, angry and I wanted to kill you?”

“How could I forget?” My tone dry, which prompted a rather cheery laugh from the Einzbern Master.

“Yes well, I’m glad we cleared that up really.” Ilya nodded. “But you see, I was just so angry from all that, so I had Berserker rush ourselves to you as fast as we could to punish you for it. It was unnecessary, and kinda funny and I’m glad I can look back on it with a laugh. If I’d just gone and fought you for no good reason- well, that would have just been embarrassing.”

“Anywho! I decided to take the slow way back, the better to enjoy my time outside y’know? But then wouldn’t you know it, I got _attacked_.”

With that proclamation, Ilya clapped her hands again, and I saw movement from the corner of my eye. One of the maids arrived, the sour looking one that had been staring daggers at me, and from behind her she was dragging-

Very, very, carefully, I kept my breathing steady and any physical responses to my baseline norm, ensuring that as little of my reactions bled through as possible. The Einzbern maid, her face twisted into a mask of contempt, dropped the barely conscious remnant of another mage at my feet. More than a mage, one of Galliasta’s mages, from one of the many other companies he still had in reserve. The man’s gaze was distant, his limbs seemingly fractured and useless, as the moment the maid had dropped him to the floor the broken man crumpled like a sack of potatoes.

“Interesting thing too.” Ilya commented as she stood up, teacup in her hand. “It’s certainly a _novel_ approach, to target another Master in this war with conventional forces and computation magic. Wouldn’t you say?”

I kept my gaze distant as I studied the man, his gaze only occasionally glancing towards mine. “Curious indeed. But you obviously survived, whoever was in control of their forces wasn’t all that experienced.”

“True!” She remarked brightly. “Honestly, it didn’t even feel like they were trying all that much. Like the way they came after me- ugh, so insulting; it didn’t even really feel like a proper assassination attempt at all! I thought they were amateurs at first, so I left this one alive just to sate my curiosity. A good choice too, since it turned out that he’s actually pretty _talkative._ ”

The Einzbern Master bent down, making sure that the bloodied pulp that was once a man couldn’t bleed on any of her clothes, before grabbing him by his hair and dragging him upwards, directing his gaze towards me

“Okay then, dear.” She remarked, sweet as cyanide. “Why don’t you tell my friend everything you’ve told me?”

The man blinked dumbly, his head jerking in what could have been an affirmative nod, before he spoke in a rasping, scratchy, tone. “M-my name is Alber-”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Ilya sighed, before slamming his head against the wooden floorboards. “No one’s interested in your _name_. Only in what you’ve done, and what you intended to do to me. So be a good boy and tell her _all_ about it.”

When she dragged the man’s head back up again, his gaze was seemingly more cognizant of where he was, his eyes found mine more easily. “I- I and my company were instructed by our employer to secure assets from the Homurahara Elementary school-”

“And _what_ were those assets? What was to be done to them?”

I closed my eyes, knowing the answer before the man spoke, his ragged voice telling me everything I needed to hear. He spoke in halting, trembling, tones- hints of what might have been regret mixed in with the desperation of the truly broken. By the time he was finished, and Ilya had allowed his head to rest upon the floor once more, I was no longer really listening.

Was I really so naive to believe that Galliasta would have heard my suggestions and acted upon it in good faith? The man was psychotic, obviously deranged, trusting him to keep his word went only so far as it would be convenient for him. I’d told him that using children was inefficient, that it was not worth the risk, and I thought he agreed with my conclusion. Evidently not; the fact that he had continued was reprehensible, but any reasonable response on my part would have ensured that he’d actually acted on my suggestions. That he’d do the right thing.

And yet I didn’t follow up on it. My mistake.

Ilya wiped away the man’s blood from her hands with a napkin, her attention no longer on the mage and solely on me. I doubted that I could have hidden the visceral reaction the mage’s confession had on me, but hopefully that would do more to sell my disgust of the kidnappings instead of reveal any deeply buried guilt I might have over the current circumstance. I sighed.

“Do you have an address? For where they brought these children?”

Ilya nodded, her tone still oddly cheerful in that disturbing way she sometimes had. “Somewhere by the docks. I was thinking a little bit of vigilantism would be just about the right amount of ‘attention’ we’d need, wouldn’t ya think?”

I said nothing, studying the mage as the barest flicker of recognition blossomed in his eyes. Why was that? Did he remember the torture that Ilya had inflicted upon him? Did he recognize me, one of the officers in the command chain that, while not one that he actively reported to, was nevertheless embedded into the command structure in case I needed to take command of any of Galliasta’s forces? Did he say anything about me, about my presence within that command chain? How much did he say, how much had he not _yet_ said to the Einzberns, that he theoretically still could?

The mage was mouthing something now, desperate, almost pleading, and I couldn’t take the chance. Six knives materialized themselves over the man’s body before stabbing themselves into the mage, three at the throat, one at the heart and two in his skull. The mage was nearly decapitated by the strike, his life flowing out in between the floorboards as I looked away from the body and towards the rest.

The maid, for some reason, looked almost frightened as she stared at me, while Ilya merely stared on with naked curiosity. She looked towards the dead man for a moment, studying it, before dismissing the corpse as immaterial and turning back to me.

“Why did you do that?” She asked, not a hint of condemnation or false cheer in her words, only the desire to understand. I shrugged.

“He’d outlived his usefulness, hasn’t he?” I replied, and I surprised myself at just how cold my words were. “If we require further information, we can take it from whoever would be working the docks. The important thing now would be operational security and how quickly we’d be able to move from here; having to care about the life of this trash detracts from our efforts in helping the children.”

Ilya gave an almost surprised look. “ _Are_ we going to the docks? I thought you’d not wanted to make a scene of yourself?”

I paused to consider that. A deep, visceral, part of me wanted to do just that, to kill anyone and everyone that had anything to do with what Galliasta had been doing. On the other hand, I also recognized that this was deliberately acting against Galliasta- I would be weakening him, and thus myself, over the course of this war. I could warn him, ensure that his assets be scattered before Einzbern and I arrived, but that would be incredibly suspicious as well. If I were her, I’d have had resources observing the property as soon as the Mage had squealed, and for them to suddenly scatter as soon as I was informed about it was just too much of a coincidence for them to ignore.

I turned to Ilya, gracing her with a smile that seemed to set off warning signals in the maid’s eyes and fireworks of excitement in Ilya’s. “Cleaning up the trash wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as fighting a Servant would be, and in the off chance that whoever’s been doing this is a Master, I’m sure Berserker and I would be more than capable of handling it.”

What choice did I have, really? Einzbern already knew, as well as whoever else they had deemed worthy of that knowledge. At this point, damage control was crucial. I had to move quickly, wipe out any hint that I was involved with this, ensure that every child still alive could be retrieved and that the after effects of tonight wouldn’t ruin my chances for a win in this blasted war. Then, once that was settled, the children freed and Galliasta’s men silenced-

Galliasta and I were going to have a very long talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Bit of an announcement, adjusting posting time to GMT+8 0700 Sunday post. I’ve been posting a bit too late for my liking the past few weeks, and I can only conclude that the human body wasn’t designed to wake this early in the morning.


	31. 4.1

4.1

Practically speaking, if I wanted to rush over to the docks, bombard Galliasta’s disgusting experiments from above, then flee before anyone could possibly respond to my efforts, then that was completely viable as far as my own abilities went. Undoubtedly, Galliasta would have resources and preparations in place to neutralize more mundane law enforcement, with perhaps enough of the prior in place to negate or otherwise delay a concentrated effort from mage operatives, but whatever is in place would be plainly insufficient against a Servant.

At the same time however, acting so haphazardly would be incredibly dangerous. Text from the Tohsaka library indicated that some Masters were capable of looking through the eyes of their own Servants; a useful tool so as to better establish more accurate surveillance on one hand while serving as a means to watch over their Servants for any sign treachery on the other. I was unsure if such a technique was unique to the Tohsaka lineage as a whole, but I was unprepared to risk my life and freedom on the assumption that it was. Everything I’d done so far could be construed as a means to gain more information on the enemy, acquire leverage against the other Masters or shroud the existence and identity of Galliasta himself. The fact that my Master had not commented on any of my actions over the past few days suggested that, at the very least, he did not strongly protest my actions. I doubted such tacit approval would last should he be informed that his own Servant was firebombing his property.

As such, overt action on my part was incredibly risky, but inaction in and of itself had its own dangers. For Tanya von Degurechaff to suffer a child abuser to live was grossly out of character and would doubtlessly spark questions in Ilya's mind as to why I would choose not to punish these degenerates personally, especially considering how quickly I'd dealt with the first one at the cafe. At the same time, the advantages in joining the fight was sizeable in that it would give me an opportunity to study Berserker’s behavior and attack profile in more detail while minimizing any possibility of direct harm against myself; not an inconsequential opportunity in this conflict. It would also allow me to show just what I was capable of to Einzbern so as to establish a potential back up for her Berserker, though I had to be careful in that case as the possibility existed that I might completely embarrass myself from the comparison.

There was another reason, of minimal likelihood but foreboding concern, that somewhere upon Galliasta’s property lay proof that I was connected to this entire mess. Such a thing could not be allowed to happen, and so my presence on the ground was necessary to destroy any evidence of my involvement as well as other, more sensitive, information. 

It was perfectly possible that Einzbern would find evidence of where exactly Galliasta resided and choose to assault it. The aftermath of such an attempt was impossible to predict with full accuracy, but I would say it was well within the realm of possibility that Galliasta would die in the attempt. My fear was that, as the walls came crumbling down upon him, that the magus would try something _stupid_ and bring me down with him. Even in the best case scenario, wherein he died cleanly and without fuss, that still left me high and dry without a Master, thus dooming me to my own death as well. I could not allow things to escalate to the point that Galliasta would be in danger of dying, at least not yet. He would die on my terms, when I was ready, not at the hands of a temperamental little girl with her pet Servant in tow.

So in summary, the key points were thus. That the children Galliasta had kidnapped were freed, that all evidence of my involvement as Galliasta’s Servant were wiped clean and to further my relationship with one of the other Masters so as to establish a jumping off point when Galliasta died and control the outcome of this operation to minimize unintended consequences. All this while maneuvering myself such that Galliasta would not believe me to be a rogue element, either through reports from his spies or through other, more esoteric, means.

It was all so convoluted and exhausting that, were I still flesh and blood, I could easily imagine a headache coming on. This was all from a measured calculation of what was to come as well, nevermind the wildcard in this situation.

My eyes flickered over to Einzbern. Instead of doing the logical, reasonable, thing and simply driven herself to the docks, the girl had insisted that she be flown there instead. The maids had been rather discomforted at that, as had I in fact, but the girl had put her foot down- a rather significant statement, when that foot commanded the rage and enmity of a Berserker. Long story short, the girl was currently in my arms, plainly happy and content as artificial blue eyes stared out into the city with palpable glee.

What confidence did she have, that even in the hands of another Servant, she would be safe? Berserker was still following me somehow, that aura of carefully contained bloodlust waxing and waning like some out of control pendulum, such that I was starting to believe that the other Servant was somehow following me from the ground like some particularly determined pitbull. An admirable degree of bullheaded loyalty, certainly, but even that constant presence wouldn’t have been swift enough to stop me from snapping her neck if I wanted to. I’d slowed down initially, as a show of good faith, so as to ensure Einzbern’s creature would be close by should she need it, but that only seemed to _upset_ the girl. She wanted me to fly high and fast, uncaring about other considerations, and it was all just very concerning. It was as though she was daring me to kill her, a profound level of confidence in her abilities to survive me that I found rather unnerving.

“This is fun!” Einzbern squealed into my ear, her grip threatening to choke me out in mid flight. “Do you think we could do a barrel roll? Or fly upside down? There’s a bridge over there! Do you think you could fly under it or between the pillars?”

“Miss Einzbern-” I began, my tone just bordering on exasperation, before she interrupted my words by squirming in my arms even further. I had to slow down my approach by a fraction, my attention focused on the tempermental girl in my arms.

“How many times do I have to tell you this!” She groused in frustration, arms and legs splayed out in protest. “Ilya! Call me Ilya!”

I grimaced. Forced familiarity notwithstanding, I was somewhat amazed that this girl was capable of such a carefree attitude considering both the recent kidnapping attempt on her as well as my killing of a man in front of her. In fact, beyond the apparent lack of concern, the girl seemed somehow excited by all this, seeing this all as some game rather than the life or death struggle that it was.

Thoughts had passed through my head, at what had to be done to fabricate such a personality, before dismissing them entirely. A child sent to fight in this war was, by definition, abnormal. Thinking about what had been done to her to achieve it, and whether my own story had influenced her development, was exceedingly unhelpful for the moment. 

“Very well, Ilya.” I conceded, which brought a quick smile to her face. “Unfortunately, I think it would be best if we move out of the air now. We’re approaching the docks now.”

She harrumphed in plain irritation. “Well alright then. But I expect it to be appropriately _exciting._ ”

I sighed at that, before promptly tightening my hold on the demanding little girl and, with a glance to the ground to ensure there was nothing particularly dangerous in our way, cut the power to my metaphorical engines. There was a sudden lurch as gravity violently reasserted itself, with Einzbern and I quickly falling to the earth as I tried to ignore her screaming in my ear.

By virtue of being the center of commerce and trade within the city, Fuyuki Harbor would undoubtedly be spiked with magical detection much like Fuyuki International had been. We had an approximate idea of where they all were, Ilya had taken much from the mage’s mind before his death, and anything the mage didn't know I could extrapolate based off of the known information. However, that the site Galliasta had decided upon having magic detecting devices at all posed a bit of a problem.

Working under the assumption that Kotomine would dutifully suppress signs of my existence was dangerous. I was already aware that the man was playing some game beyond the neutral administration of this war after all. I couldn’t trust him to act out his part with complete neutrality; I could easily see him arranging matters to favor his own pet in Emiya and Saber than to dutifully shield me from harm. As such it was best to limit the Church’s interference on matters as much as possible, or at the very least force him to do his job in such a way that it would be impossible to favor one side or the other.

Hence the plan that the Einzbern Master and I had come up with. Not the most elegant of operations I admit; it would have certainly benefited from more boots on the ground, but with Galliasta as the opponent I couldn’t risk utilizing my mercenaries to any significant degree. Even assuming that their loyalties would somehow stray to me instead of the man holding their purse strings, Galliasta undoubtedly had means to receive information from the Tresillo in some way or form. Too much of a risk with not enough time to mitigate it, so stuck in the Tower they were.

We were moments away from the ground when I allowed a sliver of energy to manifest itself, neutralizing our descent and leaving us none the worse for wear. Ilya had dug her claws into my skin in all the excitement, and while something as simple as a girl’s fingernails would not be nearly enough to leave the slightest bit of harm unto this vessel, it wasn’t all that comfortable either. I gratefully deposited the girl unto the ground, which she accepted with an uncharacteristic lack of grace, nearly jumping out of my arms and falling all over herself in the process, the roof that we’d found ourselves on silent if not for the girl’s squealing.

“That was _amazing_!” She breathed out, all smiles and blinding joy. The girl jumped up and down for a moment, exercising away all the trembling adrenaline into her system as she so happily ran around and about. “Flying is fun. Lots of fun! I want to go again!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s demanding tone. I was still uncertain whether or not the girl’s mannerisms were an act or not, but regardless of her authenticity, I couldn’t help but be charmed by it regardless. “Perhaps if everything goes to plan. I’m glad the ride was uneventful, though I’m rather surprised. Have you never flown like that before?”

The Einzberns, as far as I could see, were very much the strongest of the three families for this iteration of the war. While I understood that on an ideological level mages and magi didn’t interact very well, I knew of multiple examples in both this world and the last where ideological purity oftentimes took a backseat to practical reality. I could easily see her family studying mages and their techniques, all the better to gain some degree of practical benefit from it. The most obvious benefit would be flight, computation devices hardly had to do anything to defy gravity after all, and if any benefit could easily be extracted from continued study of the science then it was that.

Ilya giggled, her hand reaching out to cover her lips. “Oh, Tanya-chan. You’re not worried about being my first, are you?”

Well I certainly would worry. Whether or not she’d gotten proper training on magically assisted flight seemed quite important, especially if she’d not had the training and decided to jump on me willy nilly. “Not particularly, but safety is important. Proper preparation is important in all things, and I would hate to have to explain to your maids that you were hurt because of me.”

She paused at that, considering for a moment, before giggling. “My, you _are_ valiant. I’m not as young as I look, you know! I’m actually much older than you’d expect.”

It was difficult not to crack a smile at that. Every little girl liked imagining they were much older than they actually were, a commonality between all youths, I suppose. “Of course, Ilya.”

The girl nodded imperiously at that, her hand leaving her lips. There was a strange, melancholic, tinge to her smile now. “I only ever flew like that once, a long time ago.” She admitted, shrugging. “I didn’t really appreciate how special it was at the time, so I’m making up for it now.”

I paused for a moment, considering. To buy time, I looked out into the distance, magnification spells in my eyes expanding my view, allowing me a more comprehensive looks at the dock below only a few blocks away. “It’s difficult to appreciate just how important things are, until they’re gone. That doesn’t mean that you didn’t appreciate it enough, merely that you were so happy that everything else seemed largely unimportant as a consequence.”

There was silence at that, stretching out for a few seconds beyond the point of awkwardness, and I cursed at myself internally. Ah, now look what I’d done, I’d gone and made things awkward. Well, that was my fault really, imagining myself as an emotionally available person, hah!

That disdain turned to alarm when I heard a sniff beside me, sounding suspiciously like a little girl magically choked up, and I cursed myself again. Before I could say or do anything else however, Ilya spoke again.

“You’re not quite what I expected.” She eventually managed, and I turned to look at her. The Einzbern Master wasn’t bawling or anything quite so melodramatic; in fact, it didn’t seem as though anything had changed with her at all, her sniff from earlier a hallucination for all the evidence that it had ever existed. Yet her smile seemed more cheerful now, though the look in her eyes seemed more curious than it had been. “Not at all what I’d expected from the stories, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing, y’know.”

I blinked at that, what was that suppose to mean? Before I could ask, her gaze broke from mine, turning her attention to the vista ahead of us. There, entering the dock, was an unmarked truck with nondescript colors. Not particularly unique, compared to all the other vehicles coming to and fro, but we knew better. The dead mage had told us all that we needed to know.

“The next shipment of children.” I muttered aloud, and the girl beside me nodded. My vision shifted, cutting through the steel structure of the vehicle to reveal a handful of tiny heat signatures bound and gagged. “Perhaps half a dozen, maybe a bit more.”

“Hmm, this is all rather novel.” Ilya commented wryly. “I always wondered what it would be like, to be a Hero of Justice. It’s just very inconvenient most of the time, to do the right thing versus doing the correct thing. This is going to be one of those times where both of those things would be one and the same, so I’m thankful for the opportunity.”

The girl ran her hands through her hair, drawing a small handful of silver strands in the process, before casually throwing them into the air. Remarkably, the strands expanded, transforming and digging into itself, until the end result was a mesh of glowing wires in the shape of a bird, flapping in mid air and encircling Ilya in a protective orbit. It was a remarkable display of power, far beyond anything else I’d seen from Matou or Tohsaka, and I found myself rather taken in by the silver constructs. 

“Remarkable.” I couldn’t help but comment, which elicited a giggle from the girl. A flicker of her hand sent one of the birds to me shoulder, chirping and nuzzling my cheek like some facsimile of the real thing. 

“You can keep that one if you like.” Ilya smiled impishly, the silver birds around her seizing for a moment before scattering, flying to the direction of the docks with unnerving accuracy. “I may speak through them if I wish, and at the very least this way I’d make sure you wouldn’t miss me, hmm?”

I smiled, before placing the bird to the side of my shoulder, where it tunneled into my clothes before poking its head out once more, safely ensorcelled between my jacket and my dress. “Why thank you, I’ll cherish it.”

Ilya had, thankfully, been fairly thorough in the interrogation of the dead mage, and so we had a wealth of information regarding Galliasta’s assets here. Beyond the exact location of which warehouses were his, as well as relevant force disposition throughout the docks themselves, we were aware that Galliasta’s efforts had multiple facilities spread throughout the city wherein these children were being herded into. Not a lot, there were perhaps two or three more lesser facilities at most, but this facility was the largest, and actually received regular ‘deliveries’ in comparison to the others.

The plan was relatively straightforward then. We would watch one of those shipments to confirm that what the mage had been saying was true, before proceeding with the attack. Ilya would move her familiars into position so as to destroy the detection devices and strategically beneficial targets, thus allowing me to proceed quickly into the fray. I would neutralize the men on the ground, closest to the children, and extract them as quickly as possible. The odds were good that the rest of the mercenaries from around the base would respond to reinforce the building, in which case Berserker would mop up the any force that would strive to respond in time. While two Servants for this kind of operation was overkill of immensely decadent proportions, it was important that another Servant reveal itself. That a Heroic Spirit had assaulted his territory would be impossible to hide, but shrouding just _which_ Heroic Spirit was responsible was significantly more viable. It may not forestall Galliasta realizing that I’d had a hand to play in this rescue, but it would certainly delay that realization; every second with Galliasta unaware of my actions was a second I could use to fully prepare myself to leave his employ.

Which brought to mind another question, one I voiced as I turned to the girl. “Is your Servant in position now?”

Ilya brightened at that, an impish, self satisfied, grin creeping along her face. “My Servant is _always_ ready, aren’t you, Berserker?”

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, as a sudden _weight_ made itself known. The radiating aura of menace was still there, but muted, less focused somehow as though the Servant’s attention was elsewhere; presumably towards the mages below. A few moments later, the roof seemed almost to tremble as the Einzbern Servant made itself known, dropping behind us like a sledgehammer falling atop stained glass. For a moment, I feared that Berserker's arrival was so noticeable that the mercenaries from afar would notice it. The creature, for it was so huge and so monstrous that I somehow doubted it had ever been a normal man at all, towered over us both. It was a dark monolith of muscle, something resembling stone rather than flesh and blood, carved rock in the form of a sword in one hand as its gaze focused on me. Its gaze seemed neither contemptuous or even angry, surprising for something ostensibly called the Berserker of this war, and merely looked on with a stony countenance. It had a sizeable amount of hair, going all the way to his back, with strange projections around his arms. He exhaled slowly, steam escaping from his mouth like a steam engine, and I felt what might have been a shiver of disquiet creep along my back.

I tried not to let my feelings show on my face, as I instead committed the Servant’s description to memory. There were hints there, of his abnormally large sword, of the clothing he wore, that indicated his identity and I was likely going to be spending another sleepless night on research this creature. Once I’d given him a good look, I turned to Ilya, who seemed to be watching me with unabashed curiosity.

“He seems rather focused.” I remarked aloud. “Considering how hateful he’s been, or just from the title of the Berserker class itself, I was expecting something more…..feral, I suppose.”

“Berserker isn’t feral!” Ilya huffed, hands to her waist. “He’s the best!”

I see, well I could certainly see why her confidence in her safety was rather well founded. I gave her a nod, before turning away and staring off at the docks. “Shall we go then?”

Ilya blinked at that, before pouting in apparent displeasure. Perhaps she’d been expecting more of an amusing reaction from me? Regardless of her intent, she seemed not particularly inclined to respond to me verbally. A hand reached out to the direction of the docks, the girl snapping her fingers lazily as she did.

A moment later, I heard the familiar sounds of distant explosions, fire and electrical discharge erupting from afar as the docks were buffeted by multiple shockwaves. The wind pressure buffeting Ilya and I as Berserker merely looked on, eyes glued to the burning vista ahead of us. I took the moment to breathe, counting down until the explosions had subsided, until only the sound of blaring klaxons and the distant shouts of panicked personnel were relevant in my ears. My gaze scanned the panicking staff, picking out and dismissing those that were simple employees of the docks itself, differentiating conventional security forces to the mercenaries, identifying the largest bunch of Galliasta’s men closest to the center of the docks...

There they were.

A crack of lightning, and I was no longer on that cold rooftop. My form raced through the air, travelling aloft as I raced towards a single man, having activated his computation device and was now floating in mid air. The device had seemed marginally more advanced than those of the ones around him, potentially someone in the chain of command and as such useful to my needs. He seemed to scan around his immediate surroundings for a moment, alert but far too slow, such that his gaze was pointed in the exact opposite direction of myself as I arrived atop him.

Shields shimmered in the air for a moment, holding for a singular, bright, moment before it was extinguished by the force of my impact. He staggered in mid air, my foot shattering bones and crushing his heart beneath my heel, my hand already grasping his computation device and tearing it from his collar. A subsequent exertion forced my leg to push the now powerless, already dead, man downwards; the extent of my effort was well rewarded, as he rushed to the ground with a sickening thud that had more to do with an overripe watermelon than a human skull. His compatriots were slow, weak and languin and ill-prepared for me, such that they had yet to respond in any meaningful way.

I had no pity for these men, who so callously followed Galliasta’s orders like mindless mutts. I had even less concern for whatever they were capable of offering me; information relating to Galliasta was information I already had and information that needed to be denied to the Einzberns. All they could offer me was their deaths, and they’d already earned the privelege to die for me several times over.

Another crack of lightning, and my boot came crashing down on another man. He moved swiftly, not quite as brain dead as the rest, but such swiftness only accomplished the sterling result of having his spine severed rather than having his head caved in. He stumbled forward, his body crumpling to the floor before a precise quick to the side of his head broke his jaw and cleanly decapitated him. The cocking of rifles alerted me to more of the mercenaries and so my hand lashed out, knives leaving the depths of my coat, impacting the enemy with pinpoint accuracy.

Shields cracked upon impact, the sheer kinetic force overwhelming their shields in an instant, upon which the knives themselves exploded into shaped shrapnel. Bodies were eviscerated, turned into nothing more than mincemeat as steel and meat were equally scattered apart by the explosion. There was a momentary stillness in the battlefield, the clanging of the nearby alarms the only sound present as those unaffiliated with Galliasta blanched in fear or, more sensibly, ran away. I focused my attention on the dead man’s computation device, still held firmly in my grasp and in my influence, before turning to the little crystal bird hidden within my shoulder; the bird was looking at me curiously, and if I didn’t know better I would have said that the bird seemed almost mischievous in its observation of me.

“Step one complete.” I remarked. “Ready for next phase.”

“This all seems rather unnecessarily complicated.” Ilya’s voice groused cutely from the bird’s beak. “But very well.”

A moment later, loud shrieks of metal echoed throughout the dock, followed a moment later by the systematic power outage of the entire dock district as Einzbern’s familiars ripped apart power lines and emergency generators. Machinery died, alarms whirred into a dying groan as darkness fell upon the docks. I paid no attention to any of that of course; my eyes were on the computation device, the machine heating up in my hands as I broke through software firewalls and hardware limitations until, with a disconcerting pop and the smell of burning _something_ , it was ready to do as I demanded. I threw it up into the air.

Cutting the power to the docks was all well and good, in that it would stop any mercenaries from contacting conventional security and emergency services. However, not a few of Galliasta’s men were mages, mercenaries capable of bypassing such a minor setback by virtue of magical communication, and so that avenue had to be cut off as well.

It was a simple spell, essentially a continuation of the kind of magical interference spells popularized during the war; the computation device would essentially send out high density mana to the surrounding area, foiling any attempts at communication until efforts at countermeasures could be performed. They would attempt to break through, and in a conventional scenario a squad of mages working against a single computation device should be able to break through it with ease. But that was presuming that the device had not been given a little boost, something potent enough that the device would deteriorate and burn up in mid air before being overpowered by any effort from the mages here. It would last for, perhaps, a handful of minutes, but longevity wasn’t much of a concern. By the time the computation device would turn to ash, I would already be long gone.

The warehouse doors were breached with explosive force, the door shattering into wooden shrapnel and peppering the squad of mages behind it. I rushed forward, magically enhanced limbs crushing flesh, bone and steel with equal measure. Perhaps they’d been trying to leave the warehouse in time to gain space from which to maneuver, or perhaps they were simply dumb enough to take point at such a ridiculously confined space, but the end result didn’t really matter. They would have died the same way regardless.

There was a danger that I would be exposed at this point, that Galliasta would see through my eyes and see the butchery of his men at my hands, but I judged the immediate dangers of that to be relatively low as long as I followed certain steps. I knew that the spell was a fairly attention taxing process, that he would have to set aside other matters to focus his gaze through mine and in that lay the key. With everything I knew about Galliasta’s efforts and resources now, if I were in his position, I would likely have utilized that ability on the first day. That way, I would be able to observe what my Servant would do absent my direct attention, determine a rough model of likely actions, before subsequently attending to my own matters. 

And he had to focus on his own matters, that much was certain. Multistage operations such as this were too large and ungainly to be directed by a single man; talented, loyal, subordinates were necessary to carry out his goals. That in and of itself was within the realm of possibility, but the added nature of their operations made managing his people for it all the more difficult. Everyone involved in that operation would know _exactly_ how far beyond the pale their actions were, how the bounds of morality and any theoretical legal protection would damn them well. It took only a single overburdened conscience, one mistake from a careless employee, for the entire blasted machinery to come tumbling down. 

The efforts of Ilya and myself should have reduced the chances of an immediate response from Galliasta, which would mean that, ideally, he would be too distracted managing the rest of his little freak show to respond. But in the event that he _did_ know that something was wrong? He would have to consider that the same thing was happening, or about to happen, to his resources throughout the city. He had no reason to believe that I’d betray him now; he was far more likely to alert me to a potential threat, to send me off to fight it, while he would arrange for the defense of the rest of his demented little project.

Yet this was more than just an enterprise to him. I remembered how excited he was, to show the extent of what he’d achieved to me. This was a passion project for him, repugnant though the thought may be. His pride would not allow imperfection in his design, he would ensure that everything was moving along perfectly until the time to trigger his magic came to light.

Which meant that he would not be looking through my eyes just yet, that if he somehow _did_ know of what was going on, that he wouldn’t be focusing his eyes solely on one piece while the rest of his assets were left without direction. The man had _pride_ in his work, had waxed lyrical about the benefits of human sacrifice with the blinded passion of an artist. He would be doing his best to coordinate with his troops, ensure that his work was not tarnished or broken first. He would send me against any potential threats first and foremost, and would demand a status report from me in the aftermath. He wouldn’t waste time checking up on me while his work demanded his attention elsewhere, not if he was aware that his operation was going up in flames and that he needed to save it lest it all burn to cinders in his hands.

It would have been easier if I were able to collaborate with Einzbern, for her to close the gaps in my plan where supposition and theories had replaced hard facts, but it was too dangerous. It would have brought up too many questions, doubt regarding why I was asking, suspicion as to who my Master was, not to mention that if I were to somehow replace her Servant then it would have been a big red flag that would hang over any cooperation she and I could have possibly forged together. Not to mention that she could then put the pieces together and figure out that his crime against humanity was being perpetrated by my own Master. I doubt we’d have shared cute talks and engaging conversation after _that_ little factoid was known.

By the time I’d reached the central area of the warehouse, I’d ensured the only ones left behind me were either too dead or too broken to pose any significant resistance. I might have been a tad too vicious in neutralizing them, some of their blood had spilled themselves unnecessarily unto me, but in all likelihood it would be fine. If I was trying to pin the docks attack on Einzbern, then the butchery I’d inflicted would align rather well with what I presumed Berserker’s fight style would be. I doubted that giant blade of his was particularly inclined towards precision work after all.

But there were still a handful of others, and this group seemed _particularly_ suicidal. Perhaps they’d been able to surmise what was happening, or realized that if I’d killed my way through the rest of their friends that resistance was impossible, but those mercenaries that remained had obviously concluded that they had nothing left to lose. There were Five of them, three mages and two mundanes, and all of them had at least one child in their grasp and a gun to their head. Most of the children seemed to be asleep, possibly medicated into unconsciousness in some way or form, though some of the hostages they’d taken were blearily waking up. The remaining mercenaries didn’t seem particularly inclined towards allowing the children their sleep however.

“Stay right where you are!” One called out and I scoffed. Did they really think that would work? Presuming I was some other Servant, sent to neutralize another Master’s work and resources, did they really think that holding yet another body between me and them would have saved them from me? Pitiful.

“No, I don’t think I will.” I remarked, stepping forward with purpose, eyes focused. The mercenary seemed only more panicked at my declaration, the gun in his hand trembling.

“I swear to god-”

I breathed deeper at that, and something about my reaction seemed to give the mercenaries pause, a moment of fear or hesitation that I took advantage of.

A curious thing about my Item Creation ability. As seen with the Tresillo themselves, I could adjust and modify their behavior and performance all I liked, though the precise nature of computation devices meant that I had to be careful so as to maintain long term longevity and combat performance as I held them close to me. That did not mean that I _needed_ to be close to them or that, in cases where the computation devices did not require long term survival, I was limited to simply making a slightly faster computer.

The children were small, short enough that they were uniformly around the mercenaries’ waist area, give or take a few inches. That meant that, as the barrels strayed from the children's’ forms for a moment, I had free reign to do as I would. In the span of milliseconds the computation devices of the three mercenaries encountered critical structural errors, safeguards built into the machines to safeguard their users mysteriously failing as the heat turned the metal almost searing to the touch. A subsequent manipulation of the device, an adjustment to shape the subsequent charge, would ensure minimal harm to the children as well.

A moment later, the three mercenaries exploded. By virtue of computation devices being installed somewhere rather critical to a mage’s survival, such as above the heart or around the collar of one’s neck, the explosion ended their lives instantly. Another mercenary, absent of any useful computation device to implode, was thankfully fairly close to two of the other mercenaries and was subsequently perforated by the surrounding explosion as well.

The other mercenary, the last one, was not. His eyes widened, fear blooming into his eyes as instinct caused him to seize up, the gun’s trigger pressing tight against a girl’s temple.

But I was already there, my hand reaching up to direct the gun to the man’s jaw instead. The subsequent firearms misfire rather thoroughly neutralized any threat he might have had towards the children, and he slumped to the ground, very thoroughly dead.

There was a moment of silence at that, the sound of gunfire and fighting outside seemingly far more distant than it actually was as I took stock of the surrounding area. The truck was here though the insides were empty, which meant that some if not all of the children currently here were part of the incoming batch. Papers, medical tools and other paraphernalia were scattered around this section of the warehouse, though I was uncertain how much of it could be directly tied to Galliasta himself. I’d not taken the time to go through the other rooms, so I was uncertain as to just how much of those rooms held dangerous information as well. Considering Galliasta’s incompetence so far, I suspected that it would likely be for the best that I allow the warehouse to burn down rather than spend time I did not have on securing the surrounding area. Perhaps I’d have to do the same to the entire docks area itself, though considering the small earthquake that was happening outside, I imagined that Berserker was doing just fine on that front.

A frown formed on my face. Damn, I’d not yet seen him in action, had I? Something else to add to the list.

I was internally debating just how much time I had left, as well as considering that perhaps it would be best to hack another computation device to lengthen my effective operational time here, when I felt a small hand tug at my dress. The action was sufficiently distracting, and I turned to look down at the little girl I’d saved a few moments ago, eyes as big as saucers as she stared at me with a disconcerting degree of hope.

“A-are you mama Tanya?” She asked, with all the innocence that only a child could bring to bear. Not every child around us had woken up from the struggle with the mercenaries, most too drugged up for that to occur naturally, but some of them were. The children that the mercenaries had taken hostage for one, as well as a handful of others, suggesting to me that these were the children that served as the most recent ‘batch’, not yet medicated enough to fall unconscious.

I gave the girl a smile, kneeling down onto the ground and subtly brushing away some of the gristle that had landed on the girl from the man’s head being blown apart. “No, not quite.” I remarked gently. “But close enough to the real thing, I think. Were you scared?”

The girl gave no verbal response to that, merely nestling in closer for a hug. It was somewhat uncomfortable, I’d never been one for physical gestures of affection, but I wasn’t about to push a little girl away from me. I patted her on the back for a few moments, allowing the girl to cry into my shoulder as I considered whether I was capable of flying all the children out of here without looking like a clown circus had taken flight.

“Tanya? Tanya-chan? Are you there?”

The bird by my shoulder chirped up, Ilya’s voice speaking through, and the girl jerked away for a moment, before digging herself deeper into the other side of my jacket, accomplishing little else but to dirty my clothes. I took that grumbling to a minimum, allowing Ilya’s familiar to perch atop my hand.

“Yes, what is it?” I grumbled, my irritation perhaps getting the better of me. Ilya didn’t seem to mind, merely giggling instead.

“Oh I was wondering what you were up to.” the girl remarked sweetly. “Playing at a hero of justice are we? I’m almost jealous.” 

I scoffed, before placing my hand slightly farther from the girl, who’d seemed to have recovered remarkably well from a near death experience and was now studying the bird with obvious fascination. “Is there anything of actual importance you wanted to talk about? I’m rather busy at the moment.”

Ilya huffed, the bird mimicking its master’s gesture by flapping its wings in apparent disdain. “And here I was, thinking you’d be _interested_ to hear that another Servant was on the premises. Oh well, I suppose I’ll-”

“Wait, wait. Stop.” I said, which seemed to abort Ilya’s tirade well enough. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s another Servant around the docks, coming to us pretty quickly, I’d say.” Ilya remarked primly. “They’re not here yet, but they will be and I thought you’d like to know.”

Thoughts crossed through my head quickly, ideas considered and discarded. Who could possibly be coming now? Rider shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone come up here for another round. If it was Archer he wouldn’t need to approach the vicinity of the docks at all, he could have contented himself with firing off his arrows from a distance. I doubted that it was Assassin, if it was someone that could be _sensed_ , then Assassin wouldn’t have revealed itself until it was too late. Meaning that it would either be Saber or Lancer.

One of those possibilities was bad. The other, disastrous. 

I turned around to take stock. The warehouse had to burn, before either Emiya or Ilya could lay claim to any secrets here and _far_ before Lancer could spot my influence here. Unfortunately, the children made any such attempt at that particularly difficult- I couldn’t exactly pick them all up, place them atop my shoulders and fly out of here. Most were still unconscious, and even presuming that I could wake them up in time, there was no way I could do it without being seen.

Small hands reached for mine, and I jerked for a moment as the girl child reached out to grab the pale familiar from my grasp. The bird flapped indignantly for a moment, though it made no effort to truly escape. My fingers tapped against my knee, considering for a moment.

There were several ways I could play this, none of which I would be particularly _happy_ about, all things considered, but they were workable. “Ilya, would you kindly do me a favor?”

The bird seemed turned away from the girl, who’d begun playing with the thing, its avian eyes looking straight at me. “Oh? Well I suppose I can, Tanya-chan. Though it would greatly depend on what you’d do for me in return, hmm?”

The damned thing seemed almost to _preen_ at its master’s words, as though Ilya was doing her level best to transmit her feelings through to the familiar. I sighed, then explained my thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Deep apologies for the delay. As per the announcement on spacebattles, I’ve had something of a rough week due to a local typhoon and subsequent power issues. As such, the chapter was delayed, though all things considered I believe the next chapter should launch just fine.


	32. 4.2

4.2

I couldn’t stay long enough to confirm who the incoming Servant was. I was no Assassin, capable of reconnaissance without detection, and so the moment this new Servant entered the docks they would realize that there were two Servants, not one, currently within the vicinity. However, just because I could not confirm who they were, did not mean I couldn’t make a few intelligent guesses.

The likeliest Servants to be approaching the docks so recklessly was Saber or Lancer. If it was the former, then the damage would be fairly minimal should they find me; even if the swordswoman was the cold, heartless, bitch that she presented herself as, I doubted that her Master would be particularly against me saving innocent children. In such a case, I could see myself withdrawing, allowing Saber and her Master to find the children, and trust them to see them off safely with minimal issue. I doubted I even needed to be on the field to see that happen, Emiya was a remarkably straightforward boy that way, with a strong moral code so as to compel him to do the right thing. I appreciated it when people were neat and predictable that way.

But Lancer and his Master were considerably more troublesome. The Hound did not strike me as one with a particularly stringent moral code; while I doubt that he’d massacre the children, I couldn’t see him going out of his way protecting them either. The man was a battle maniac, he’d spare them for no other reason than that they’d offer him no substantial entertainment, and so would essentially be a neutral factor towards what would happen to Galliasta’s victims. A demeanor that resulted in Lancer not particularly caring as to what would happened to them, and would thus likely swing towards whatever his Master would desire.

Which was the biggest problem here, wasn’t it? When it comes down to it, I knew very little of Bazett McRemitz beyond the fact that Galliasta had chosen her as a partner for this war. She was a professional, some manner of combat specialist, and trusted enough by Galliasta that he bothered to send me off to ensure her survival. The fact that she was part of the Clock Tower meant very little, as Galliasta was part of the same organization and for all I know was content with my Master using their resources for his little experiments. Insufficient information to make a deliberate conclusion, but the information that did exist suggested that the girl would simply secure the area and inform Galliasta the moment that she realized what was at stake. The odds of the children getting out of here in such a scenario would be remarkably dim then, an unacceptable course of events. 

It would only be prudent to operate from the worst case scenario, that the intruding Servant was Lancer, than close my eyes and pray that it would be someone else less inconvenient to me. It would certainly match tonight’s theme, an appropriate way to end a particularly unpleasant night. If my behavior and strategy would severely inconvenience Emiya, then I’d rather ask the boy’s forgiveness rather than beg for mercy from McRemitz; at the very least, the boy seemed the more amiable of the two.

Regardless of who it was, one thing was clear. Secrecy remained paramount, revelation of my participation, disastrous. Even a hint of my involvement here, or that I’d been in contact with the other Families, was completely unacceptable. All signs of my presence had to be erased. In the short term that meant the warehouse I was in needed to burn, while in the long term I had to somehow modify the memories of a few dozen children for them to forget me.

The former was substantially more straightforward a task than the latter.

The warehouse had not been conventionally defended, beyond the now dead security forces anyway, but it did have certain magical protections set within its foundation. While I was not particularly knowledgeable regarding magi defenses and the like, I was familiar enough with my Master to recognize his work when I saw it. 

The runes meant very little to me, but there was an instinctual knowledge to it that I couldn’t help but be drawn towards. My magic, my presence, suffusing into the steel and stone like some acidic thing, burning away the surface and revealing to me the inner workings beneath. A magic circle built not so much on defense or protection but instead…..

Something like aversion. Something to obscure and shroud, which seemed perfectly adequate for a facility of this size. Large enough to store the ‘merchandise’, but not enough to actually process the children. That was reserved for facilities like what I’d been shown in the Tower; specialized equipment, a well defended location, resources to keep and store the merchandise. Galliasta’s work was extensive and expensive, the man prone to secrecy and paranoia, he would not leave his life’s work where some mage could stumble upon it and start asking uncomfortable questions. That he took steps to protect the warehouse was all well and good, but the presence of his magic here was yet another thing to throw into the pyre. It was like a signature of sorts, and if someone were to pay attention to this particular signature, then it could easily become a lose end that would lead itself to me. Unacceptable.

In my mind’s eye the magic twisted in my grasp, like rotting wood upon a steel fist; easy to mold in my grasp, considerably harder to do so without breaking. Nonetheless, it was easier than I expected, though considering the practical difference between a mage and a Heroic Spirit that was only natural, and a little bit of ungentle prodding did the rest. The smell of ozone filled the building, the heat spiking up considerably, but by the time I opened my eyes and returned to the world again the work was done.

I had unbalanced Galliasta’s work, rendered it unstable and dangerous, water and magma mere inches away from combusting, held aloft only by my attention. The moment I left, or the moment I chose not to instill my will upon the circle, the warehouse would self immolate. Nothing particularly elegant, and a casual investigation by a halfway decent magus would likely reveal it to be magical in nature, but that didn’t matter. The flames would easily burn away any evidence of what this place had been and how it connected to Galliasta, that would have to be enough.

“Caster? Are you still there?”

My attention flickered away from Galliasta’s magecraft and towards the familiar, now pecking at my shoulder in an insistent, irritated, fashion. I shrugged apologetically.

“Mopping up a few things over here, it should be finished now.”

The bird huffed in apparent disdain. “How bold. It is not often that someone has the temerity to petition the Einzbern for anything, nevermind to have me serve as a distraction for you, Caster.”

“Not so much a distraction, Master.” I remarked, as I tried to keep a child from drooling on my skirt. “Merely a protective measure. If an enemy Servant is here, then the odds of conflict are high. Your Berserker is a powerful creature, but he seems not at all suitable for precision. If the Servant were to reach us and fighting were to break out, I fear that the children might be hurt in the ensuing conflict. I rather not expose the children to more harm than they’ve already had.”

Reputation was a remarkably useful thing. I was popularly considered to be a maternal figure, perhaps not so much in the personal sense as it is from my efforts in growing and leading Germania over the years. It was all rather silly really, a forward thinking government must always consider the education and training of the youth as its foremost priority, both in the construction of worthwhile individuals to add to society as well as indoctrination and loyalty towards the state’s culture. A perspective of growth coupled with the fact that I was a woman led to the perspective of myself as a mothering figure, a rather perplexing conclusion that nonetheless had the advantage of obscuring my true thoughts on the matter.

The fact of the matter was that it was impossible for us to shroud that a Servant had attacked the harbor. The sheer level of destruction, the coordinated nature of the attack, the prize we’d taken while leaving the rest of the docks relatively unspoiled, Galliasta would know immediately that he’d been attacked by one of his rivals. As such, it would be highly beneficial if Galliasta’s attention was drawn away from my influence by pinning this all on Berserker. If the approaching Servant was Saber, then the resulting destruction might very well wipe the harbor from the map if sufficiently destructive enough. If it was Lancer, then he would report what he’d seen to Galliasta, and in so doing clear me of suspicion as a consequence.

Was I using the girl? Undoubtedly so, but not for any particularly malicious reason, though I could certainly see how she may think that. So, as far as she knew, I was having her fight an unknown Servant with an unknown level of strength while I moved to abandon her instead of standing by her as an ally would. She would likely feel confused at such an action, it was a deliberately irrational strategy after all; with two Servants on the field versus another, we could simply overwhelm the other Servant and then extract the children right after. That I would willingly abandon that advantage in favor of handling the children didn’t make sense, and Ilya would know that.

Hence, the gamble on my maternalistic persona to divert her attention. Not a clean excuse by any means, but it was better than nothing. If need be I could simply make it up to her afterwards.

“Even so, I fail to see how that would be a problem.” Ilya replied, her little bird fluttering its wings imperiously as it did. “If they followed us to the children, Berserker would kill them. If we stayed and fight, Berserker would kill them. Berserker is the strongest after all, he would never lose.”

The words were high and haughty, but it didn’t yet have the sting of an outright dismissal. At the very least, she wasn’t all that upset at me, or at the very least had not become overt signs of anger anyway. In such a case I imagined that I would not be met by words, but by the rampaging anger of Berserker smashing through the warehouse walls and wringing my neck for the insult. She seemed amused by this still, which meant an opportunity for some degree of flexibility here.

Still, I couldn’t help but sigh at her response. Speaking as a Servant myself, that level of confidence upon one’s performance was both flattering and somewhat stressful. I couldn’t help but wonder what Berserker’s own opinion would be at such a declaration of faith, presuming he could say anything as the beast he currently was anyway. “Be that as it may, a confrontation between Heroic Spirits is no place for children. It would be best to extract them now, while you deal with the incoming Servant.”

“You might be right.” Ilya mused in that sing-songy voice of her’s. “Very well, but I’ll have three conditions for my cooperation. Three favors for my help, that sounds generous on my part, doesn’t it?”

A few moments of calculated silence passed, followed by my voice, injected with just the right amount of wariness. “Oh? And how do you figure that?”

This time, I could feel Ilya’s grin through the familiar. “My Berserker is perfect you know. If we had to measure strength, he’s at least twelve times more powerful than you I bet! So considering that you’re asking for his help, it only makes sense that I ask for twelve favors from you! But since I’m such a good girl, and since we’re being heroes of justice right now and all that, a fraction of that sounds about right.”

It wasn’t the most convoluted line of thought I’d had to follow in life, but it was pretty damn close regardless. An insane proposition, but one I had to follow regardless. Time was running out, but this conversation was absolutely integral. Einzbern’s cooperation was necessary for any future plan; the Matou and Tohsaka plan could be scuttled for all I knew, and I had very little intention of isolating the last of the Three Families. Nonetheless, that did not mean I should simply stand by.

A snap of my fingers and visages appeared around me, prompting a shiver of fright through the conscious children. I soothed their worries as best I could, a few meaningless words here and there to compel their obedience, which was granted easily enough. They brought the children into the nearby truck, the unconscious ones first, followed by the ones still awake. It was an efficient system, one eased by the fact that I could bring forth any number of visages I’d like and that they could simply phase through each other as they carried their packages. The children reacted with some amount of fear and trepidation, but a few words from me was sufficient to settle them down.

It wasn’t until the last one left my grasp, a pretty little brunette that had been persistently holding my hand until now, that Ilya finally spoke. “You should really be thankful I’ve even considered your request you know. Most would have had to die, come back and die again before I heard any requests they’d have to make.”

I purse my lips. The pause was likely intended for dramatic effect on her part, though I admitted to not feeling generous enough to feed into her game for the moment. Still, it was only a petty flicker of irritation that stilled my tongue, nothing more. Ilya had correctly surmised that, whatever the reason for my sudden distaste in open engagement, that she had the advantage in any negotiation between the two of us. Every second that passes by without the Einzbern Master’s agreement was another second I could be exposed, and while she might not have caught on to the specific reason why, she knew I was in a precarious position nonetheless.

“Depending on what those conditions are, three is too much.” I spoke eventually. “You can rest assured that you have my assistance in hunting down whoever did this-”

“Which is something you’d do regardless, isn’t it?” Ilya responded, her voice curiously blank. “I can’t imagine that Tanya von Degurechaff would possibly let whoever did this walk away with their lives, so its something of a waste if that was one of my conditions isn’t it? Or are you saying that you’d really let that happen?

I shook my head. “Are you sure we really have time to discuss this? That Servant is bound to arrive sooner rather than later, and if they interfere-”

“Oh, is that what you’re worried about?” The girl remarked, amusement creeping into her tone. “Well that’s easy enough to fix. Berserker?”

There was no brief moment of calm, no silence before the thunderstrike of violence that Berserker manifested. Whatever silent order had been sent through to the Servant’s mind had prompted a near instant explosion of violence. The ground shook beneath me, as though the world itself shifted to manifest the Berserker’s will as the distant sound of bestial roars and a collapsing building followed in his wake.

I wanted to see it. I really wanted to see it, both from the strategic necessity of observing what another Servant was capable of and a morbid fascination by the kind of power the Einzbern’s pet was capable of. It was clear enough to me that the Einzbern stood head and shoulders above even the other two families; both in the spellcraft that Ilya was capable of as well as the strength of her Servant. Neither Archer nor Rider seemed capable of drawing out the sheer level of violence and bloodlust that Berserker seemed capable of, but the uncertainty of his strength was what was truly irritating. I wanted to see it, I truly did, but circumstances simply didn’t allow for it.

Which, upon a moment’s reflection, made me frown. Had Ilya foreseen something like this happening and deliberately maneuvered her Servant so as to show as little about his power as possible? We’d agreed on a plan of attack, and so far things had been going according to that plan, and yet what had happened in reality? How much information on Einzbern had I collected, and how much did Ilya collect on me? Somehow, I had the inclination that I wouldn't like the answer to either.

Ilya’s familiar seemed to nod in triumph, a degree of satisfaction in its movement. “There. With that pesky fly occupied, we’ve got a bit more time to talk don’t we? You get to sneak out undetected, I get to have my favors and another Servant gets to have its guts splattered across the sea. Everyone wins, right?”

Yes true enough. Everyone wins, except for the Einzbern, who wins the most. Ilya was confident she’d win, an impression I had no reason to doubt, and her success would be beneficial to her no matter what way the battle outside would go. The immediate benefits of Berserker killing the other Servant were self-evident, but even if the opposition managed to escape, what was the most obvious result? That they would regroup, realize Berserker was too tough a challenge to handle on their own, and return with an alliance of Servants to take him down. Then, once they’d committed and retreat was impossible, Ilya could call upon me to even the odds, the surprise of the attack sufficient to swing the balance in her favor. Hell, considering the friendly alliances I’d made until now, I would likely be in that alliance against Berserker, only to turn on my allies as I solidified my alliance with the Einzbern Master.

Somehow, the subsequent giggle she let out at her declaration seemed less innocent and more diabolical now, the little devil rejoicing in her victory. I didn’t quite know how to feel about that.

* * *

Thankfully, by the time I’d driven the children out of the docks my mind was clearer on the matter. I’d dismissed the visages once the task was done, and judging from the lack of any notable noise from the children, they were keeping themselves well behaved. It wasn’t exactly the fastest method I could have chosen to get the children out of there, but it was definitely the least conspicuous of the options available to me. Sometimes the most straightforward solutions were the best, and after any notable security within the docks had been butchered by either myself or Berserker, no one really posed a significant challenge to my escape as I drove out of the compound.

And oh how they were butchered. My approach had been deliberately brutal, all the better to match the destruction to whatever Berserker had been able to pull off, but I’d evidently underestimated him. Mercenaries lay in pieces, body parts parted meters away from each other as deep gouges in the earth indicated the sheer power of the Servant’s strikes. Buildings and warehouses lay ravaged, walls collapsed into itself as the Servant had ran roughshod through building after building as he chased down his targets. Trucks lay scattered and broken, the indentations on the vehicles indicating that Berserker had used the damn things as clubs, breaking them against the mercenaries with such brutal savagery that they’d been reduced to a smear on the ground worthy of a Pollock painting. 

It made the burning ruin that had been Galliasta’s warehouse look like child’s play in comparison. I couldn’t help but be somewhat amused at that, a degree of humor at the sheer savagery that Ilya had unleashed. Was it an indication of an actual moral outrage at what had been done here? Possibly, she’d made mention of wanting to act out the role of a hero, but as far as I was concerned that was all just set dressing; an excuse. Her cheerfulness when talking to me, the pleasure she felt at wielding Berserker like some oversized club, this was all just a game to her. A game with human pieces and fatal costs true, but a game nonetheless.

Ethical considerations aside, what did that mean for any realistic attempt at aligning myself with her? An expectation of strength certainly, that my power would be superior, or at the very least equivalent, to the Berserker in her grasp. I wasn’t entirely sure I could match that, in this or any other iteration of myself, but that was even presuming that Berserker could be neutralized to allow for such an opportunity. Every Servant had a weakness, our legends were built upon human legacies and human foibles after all, one existed somewhere. The question was whether I’d be aware enough, or positioned well enough, to take advantage of such a weakness.

Another beastly roar echoed across the docks, and I minutely adjusted my path as a consequence. With Ilya’s cooperation, avoiding the enemy became an easy task. The battle was anything but quiet, the sound of clashing steel and collapsing warehouses a very clear sign to drive in the exact opposite direction. If I were to make a guess, Berserker had engaged the enemy Servant perhaps a block or so away from the docks themselves; closer to the Fuyuki River than the more metropolitan Shinto area. At least, that was where they were currently; the nature of Servant versus Servant combat made one’s battlefield rather less static than one might be used to. 

The little bird felt heavy in my coat, the familiar curiously lifeless after my conversation with Ilya. The urge to learn more about Berserker, to discover his weaknesses and the like was quite nearly overwhelming. What could he do? What couldn’t he do? What made Ilya so confident in his strength? I had ways of observing the fight even now, but none of them were without risk. If I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me and reveal myself now, after all the effort I’d put to keep myself secret? Utterly unacceptable.

So I simply kept my impulses in check, safely driving the truck and the children further and further from the docks until even Berserker’s roar was more akin to distant thunder. 

What was to be done with the children now? Abandoning the munchkins by the side of the road next to a police station wasn’t exactly the most responsible choice. Unless the funding and training of the local constabulary had markedly spiked sometime after my death, I couldn’t quite see them keeping the children secure. As soon as Galliasta knew the children were missing, there was a reasonable assumption that he would seek to secure them before they could be put out of his reach. At the minimum, he would likely still have a few mercenaries to accomplish that. At the worst case scenario, he would send me out to collect them, via Command Seal if necessary, and all my hard work will be for naught.

Which means that wherever I brought these kids, they would have to be out of Galliasta’s reach entirely. Even if, say, I’d prepared resources to have them smuggled abroad, such exertion on my part would mean nothing if I was the one personally sent to retrieve them. Galliasta seemed not to care that what he was doing was both morally reprehensible and dangerous in the extreme; nevermind magic Interpol, it was a miracle that the disappearances of all these children hadn’t made national news yet. Perhaps he’d been cleaning after himself, ensuring that they would not be missed, or perhaps the Church had been covering up-

Ah. Well that was the most likely option, wasn’t it? The Church, for all their irritations and downsides, were a neutral party to this whole affair. Politically, they were untouchable, capable of proclaiming edicts that could very well change the landscape of the war if necessary. Considering the fact that Kotomine was in control of the Church’s activities within the city, I had doubts that even this revelation of what Galliasta had done would be enough to compel the priest to work against the magus. At the same time, as a neutral party, he would be able to administer and take care of the children while keeping Galliasta well and truly away from them as much as possible. My Master would know better than to tango with the Church, would know that it would be damn near suicidal. He would not follow them if he knew they were now in Kotomine’s hands.

Decision made, I adjusted my course, taking a beeline straight for the Parish. It was a fairly uneventful ride for the most part, at least until we reached the Shinto area. The local police seemed to have finally caught on that something rather troublesome was happening in the docks, a conclusion I came to after the third set of wailing sirens rushed past me. I entertained a few moments of distraction to wonder what would have happened had any of those young gentleman had considered my vehicle with even a modicum of suspicion. Presumably, reports that harbor was probably being pummeled back into the sea was of considerably more importance than some truck limping away from the direction of that very same port. Perhaps I could have said that the children on the back were donations to the church?

Regardless, I knew better than to relax at this point. The Shinto region was my territory, but it was also more accurate to say that it was Galliasta’s territory, as far as reconnaissance could say anyway. I had the authority to wave away any of his mercenaries should I attract their attention, but I also rather not attract that attention in the first place. I had a truck full of children after all, and unless I would turn around and gift all those kids to Galliasta with a bow on top, I imagine that I’d have to kill even more of Galliasta’s goons should they impede my progress. Not exactly a difficult thing to do, but if the aim of all this was to be as inconspicuous as possible, killing every one of my Master’s mercenaries that stumbles across my path was somehow less than subtle in my own estimations.

Beyond that, it was the middle of the night in Fuyuki; it wasn’t so much as if I’d get accosted by another Servant as it was when I would inevitably be intercepted. My only hope was that I’d have cleared Shinto by that point.

No such luck unfortunately, and I felt another Servant’s presence assert itself long before I actually saw them. They’d positioned themselves in my path, sedately waiting for me to close the distance, which I allowed with some degree of amusement. The dramatics Heroic Servants seemed so intent on indulging in was rather too much in my opinion, but considering that the alternative was for them to chase me down the moment I tried to turn this hunk of welded metal around, I didn’t really like my chances.

Though as I got closer, the vehicle crawling to a stop a mere handful of feet away from the Servant, I had to readjust my prior statement. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that Heroic Servants were prone to overblown dramatics as that she was, though as irritating as her appearance may be to my plans, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat elated at my choice of strategy earlier. As always, it paid to operate under the worst case scenario.

“Oh hello there Saber.” I called out, leaning out the window to give the dour swordswoman a lazy wave. She barely gave a reaction to that, her blade struck to the ground, hands on her pommel, the only indication of her acknowledgement being the slightest inclination of her head in my direction. “It’s a pleasure to see you, though you seem rather lost. Are you hitchhiking perhaps?”

Saber seemed to consider me for a moment, the dark silver ornament over her eyes twinkling from the fluorescent lights above as she spoke. “I’m afraid not, though you seem to have acquired vagrants of your own. Or should I call them victims?”

Ah. Straight to the point, were we? I figured that I should be surprised that she knew, but it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out something was wrong. A servant driving a van of this size wasn’t exactly subtle. “Oh dear no, consider them donations really. Priests always need more altar boys and nuns in training don’t they? I figure I’d buy my way to a more peaceful afterlife with Kotomine."

The other Servant bristled at that. "For you? Doubtlessly it would be expensive."

I chuckled at that. Had Saber actually managed a joke? Will wonders never cease. "Well I wouldn't know. Your Master is rather close with the Priest isn’t he? Do you think he could get me a discount?”

Not even the flicker of a smile, how remarkable. “You will surrender the children to me, whereupon you may be on your way.”

I quirked my brow at that, before opening the door and jumping out of the truck. One of my visages took my place near instantaneously, closing the door behind me. “Unacceptable. The children are in my care, and I will not allow them to leave my sight until they’ve been safely deposited with Father Kotomine.”

Saber didn’t speak this time. Instead, she raised her blade from the ground, its tip leaving a stab mark inches deep into the concrete, the blade emanating an aura of dark violence as it swung to her hand. “My orders are to demand the surrender of anyone, Servant or otherwise, keeping the children from their rightful parents. Should such individuals refuse surrender, I have been tasked with pacifying them by any means necessary.”

This time I narrowed my eyes, before giving it another try. “If you wish, you could accompany me to the Kotomine Parish. You could see that I mean no harm, that I fully intend for the children to be safe and secure, that violence is wholly unnecessary here.”

“Such an act is outside the purview of my orders.” Saber responded, and I could sense the faint tinge of satisfaction in her words. “Surrender, now.”

Huh, well how about that. I took the moment to glance away from the other Servant, taking the rest of the intersection in.

Credit where credit was due, Saber knew her stuff. Whether it was some base sort of instinct for this sort of thing or prior knowledge of the subject, she’d positioned her ‘roadblock’ in such a way as to have avoided the cameras Galliasta had seeded all around Shinto. Well, most of them anyway; my eyes strayed to the smoking remains of one such camera, the device cleanly cut in twain.

I wasn’t blind, I could see that this was a misunderstanding that was only skin deep. I, with my trunk full of children originally meant for the slaughterhouse. She, having found me and demanding both my own surrender and that of the children. Servants weren’t quite meant to hit it off with one another, such a thing would drastically reduce our ability to kill each other, but that animosity seemed doubly pronounced between me and her. Even the barest amount of effort would reveal that I meant no harm, and that I was operating in good faith. Instead, she was operating on the thinnest veneer possible, twisting her orders in such a way to justify what was about to happen.

And in all honesty? That might be the only thing she and I would ever agree on at this point. Recent events have given me all the impetus I ever needed to acquire for myself my next Master. I could no longer afford to dilly dally, to delay and consider while events quickly spiraled out of control, as wars typically do. Faced with this golden opportunity of a Servant ready and willing to fight me for some completely inane reason? Why, it seemed almost perfectly suited to my needs.

Still, there was one last avenue I could try. At the very least, the post mortem for this entire thing would prove that I did my best to keep things from escalating.

“Where’s your Master, hmm?” I ask, curious. “We could simply ring him up, let me explain the situation, and all of this could be -”

“You will not touch him.” Saber growled, a degree of emotion in her voice that I found rather uncharacteristic of her. I frowned, staring at her uncomprehendingly, before I sighed.

“Oh very well then.” I sighed. At that same moment, I sent a simple command to the visage in the driver’s seat. They weren’t quite to the level of conscious human beings, more in line with fairly complex programs than anything else, and as such could be trusted to find thorough solutions to fairly general orders.

Flee, now. Keep the children safe.

The revving of the truck’s engine was nearly shockingly loud from the silence before. A glance away from me, Saber’s attention shifting towards the van and not myself, was all the opening I required.

The fiery cerulean explosion that enveloped her form wouldn't have hurt her all that much, but with any luck, it wouldn't tickle her either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Apologies for the week long delay. As explained on Spacebattles, this chapter had come across some structural issues, requiring me to rebuild it almost from scratch and too late for the prior deadline. As such, things have been adjusted and I took advantage of the week to settle anything else on my end. Thanks for the patience!


	33. 4.3

4.3

The flames burned painfully bright even to my eyes, an incandescent conflagration only a handful of degrees away from the scorching might of the sun. The road burned beneath Saber’s boots, the truck containing the children veering off into the night in the opposite direction, asphalt and concrete melting into congealed sludge as she took one step after another towards me. Her blade was drawn to her side, the point of her sword rasping against the ground even as she sunk deeper into the muck. Metal creaked from the strain of the heat, Saber’s hair singed at the tips, her visor masking any expression that might be visible through her eyes.

Despite myself, I was rather impressed. The heat of the conflagration would have been enough to boil the crew of a modern tank unit alive in their vehicle, and yet Saber was walking through it with only marginal difficulty. It wasn’t meant to kill her of course, prior experiments had already concluded that half assed magic wouldn’t cut it against the Servant, but a sustained assault against her did serve a more indirect purpose.

The Servant of the Sword was a powerhouse, someone I couldn’t feasibly overpower unless the proper weakness and position showed themselves. I could batter against her strength all day to grind her down from afar of course, but that just wasn’t feasible for any extended fight, not unless I was willing to escalate the fight such that a significant portion of the island was turned to glass anyway. Not to mention the fact that, in such a situation, both Saber and I would invite other opponents by the strength of our blows, causing us to be easy prey to any late arrivals as we exhausted ourselves against the other. At the very least, Archer would be quite content taking potshots at either of us from the safety of the multitude of vantage points one can find within the city’s landscape.

So the optimal strategy was to irritate and impair, to control her movements and use the opportunity to force her hand or reveal some hitherto unseen weakness. In this case, the severity of the fire was intense enough that, presuming a Servant’s typical hardiness, one’s senses were invariably assaulted and diminished while within the conflagration. Servants weren’t quite human, but the heat of your entire body burning to a cinder wasn’t exactly something one could ignore without effort either.

The concrete beneath her melted into tar, a black glop enveloping her form as she took one step after another, still stumbling towards me with rather praiseworthy determination. I’d moved by this point, my feet no longer touching the ground as I floated silently around her, keeping a healthy distance as I waited for her first move.

Something in her stance shifted, a commitment to violence, and I accelerated upwards, impulse driven by pure instinct. A moment later, Saber barreled through my previous position, crushing concrete and metal as easily as one would tear through Styrofoam; more like an out of control tank than anything else, her metal heels causing an ungodly screeching. A nearby lamppost collapsed under the weight of the impact, falling and shattering, casting the surrounding area in cerulean tinged darkness, the flames serving as the only light source in the immediate area.

With a stab of her blade into the ground, that dark wind of her’s enveloped her form, my flames spluttering out, leaving only the glint of dark steel from her armor in the aftermath, the Servant pulling herself up from the rubble of her impact site as I considered her more closely.

Minimal effect, though that wasn’t too surprising. Even given the presumption that the flames and smoke of my magic would have blinded her, the visor over her eyes was a significant impediment to any serious consideration of blinding her. It seemed to be made of the same material that formed her armor, and absent the logical consideration of the laws of physics, would likely be just as hard, if not harder, to break. The obvious path to invalidate the effectiveness of her armor was to strike at her unprotected head and neck, but that was easier said than done. Both physical and magical defenses were significant, and despite the ponderous strength that made the girl more similar to a beast of burden than a human being, she would be fast enough to dodge some of my more conventional attacks aimed at those weakpoints.

Her stance changed again and she leapt forward. By this point however, I’d become used to her velocity, she wasn’t exactly flying by her own power like I was, but was instead using her own magical power to achieve a certain degree of….assisted flight, much like a rocket. As such, her momentum was a known quantity, something that could be analyzed and projected. I danced around her strike once more, before manifesting half a dozen guns and firing cerulean beams at her flank. The explosion was significant, blanketing the area in light for a moment, and sufficiently powerful to have pushed her somewhat off course from her initial landing spot.

Saber didn’t bother to correct her flight, instead landing at the edge of a sharp drop that threatened to tip her over into the darkness. Her blade struck into the ground, an attempt to stall her momentum, only for the ground and the entirety of the incline to vanish in a flash of magical power as I bombarded it from above. My gaze tracked Saber as she fell further downwards, tumbling for a moment until she reached a building on the opposite side. Her weight was sufficient to cause cracks in the concrete, the hand she used to break her fall leaving an imprint upon the wall as she staggered to her feet with all the grace and power of an obese elephant. I sighed.

“This is just sad.” I remarked. “We’ve done this dance before, haven’t we? You hit me, you miss. I hit you, nothing happens. An exercise in madness.”

“Agreed.” Saber responded in kind, the knight having gotten to her feet fairly quickly. “So you should just bare your neck and end this tiresome charade for us both.”

I laughed. “Ohohoho! That’s funny. I didn’t know you were programmed for humor- how about you try that again, except this time you try coming at me with something other than a hop, skip and a prayer hmm? You’re being far more modest with your power than you were the other night.”

Saber said nothing in response, her actions speaking for her. Dark wind erupted around her and she leapt, her momentum carrying herself through the gap between us, her blade shining in the dark, as I slipped below her strike once more. Beams erupted around me, striking her at the back and knocking her off course, but she recovered much more cleanly this time. Turning her blade around, another burst of magical energy sent her after me, only narrowly missing me as my beams slammed into her back.

We danced in the sky like this for a while, like a matador and her bull; for every strike she missed, I would leave her slightly more diminished than before. It was an apt metaphor, even a single good hit on her part would likely be disastrous for me; I was uncertain whether my shields would even survive direct combat with her and I had even less confidence that my limbs would survive meeting with such a blade. Still, the amount of magical energy I was pumping into her was slowly grinding her down. It was very slight, the equivalent of chipping away at a boulder with one’s fingernails, but there was progress. In that sense, given a very loose definition of what victory looked like, an outside observer could say that I was slowly winning.

But I knew what this was. Saber was studying me, the same as I was studying her. She was keeping her cards to the chest, as was I, and this little tit for tat we were up to was little more than either of us finding a chink in the other’s armor. The moment she’d discover something she could exploit, some weakness I’d hidden, I’d be on a timer to do the same before the battle becomes untenable.

My mind strayed towards the pictures and videos I’d previously taken of her. Saber’s armor was distinctly European, which drastically reduced the potential options for who she was, but nothing was so distinctive that I’d be clued in to her identity. Her blade was dark and powerful, the ill-intent was something one could feel from a mile away if they were paying attention, but anyone I could think of who would be so ill tempered didn’t match well with every other bit of information I had on her. Boudica was certainly a contestant, in that she’d led a vengeance filled crusader against her enemies, but I didn’t think plate armor was quite a thing during her time either. Catherine of Aragorn was another potential pick, I believe legends of her had her riding out to battle in full, armored, regalia. There were two problems with that of course, that Catherine did not have the reputation or skill in swordsmanship that Saber obviously had, and that Saber was not heavily pregnant at the moment as Catherine was when she’d rode out. 

Not that a famous name was necessary to be summoned in the first place of course. Considering the nature by which she was summoned, her Master having drawn her out by some intrinsic connection with her, the specific identity Saber had might truly have been lost to time, in which case any further thought on her identity was a waste of invested resources.

Except for the fact that her sword continued to elude me.

It was such a consistent thing, wasn’t it? That all of Saber’s attacks utilized it, flowed through it, channeled with it. My prior opponents, Archer and Rider, had utilized means and strategies outside of strict adherence to their class; Archer with his blades and Rider with his lightning, that helped indicate who exactly they were. Lancer was an exception to this, but it wasn’t quite the same; the Hound was devoted to his craft, that his skill and ability manifested into a killing intent via his own skill. That aura of danger would have been present regardless of whether Lancer would be wielding Gae Bolg or a fishing pole, such was his mastery.

But take away Saber’s blade, and what was left? It seemed to me that its presence demanded just as much attention and fear as its wielder, as though it was just as much a contributor to Saber’s legend as its owner was.

A burst of wind from that blade drew my attention to the fight once more and I spun away, flipping over Saber’s form such that I was directly to her left. I harnessed my strength, pressing it onto the partially protected area at the back of her head, then let loose.

For all that she was strong, she was frighteningly quick when she wanted to be. Another burst of air, aimed downward, led to the brief moment of vulnerability disappearing, my strike piercing her sturdy back armor, the velocity of both her own blade and my magic sending her straight to the ground. At the same time, that my magic had sent her tumbling to the ground had redirected the aim of her burst of air directly at me, prompting me to dodge to the side. The hearing to my side was dulled for a moment, the sheer power of her strikes too dangerous to face head on, and the momentary deafness cleared only after I heard Saber crash into the ground.

This couldn’t go on forever. I had a few ideas, a few strategies that might work, but they were all fraught with unacceptable degrees of risk. I’d prefer to proceed once all relevant data was gathered, but I doubted I’d have the time to really do that at this point. Even assuming no other Servant would try their luck at us while we were busy with each other, the situation at the docks was likely to escalate soon. If Galliasta became aware of what I was doing, that that drastically reduced my ability to react to the coming events.

Saber had to make a mistake, to overcommit herself, to proceed and force herself into a position of vulnerability. She was too skilled, too battle-hardened, to fall for something as simple as a feint, of course. Every interaction I’d had with her lent credence to her existence as being little more than a vehicle for pure violence. No, I had to actually make a mistake. Something for her to capitalize on, to be forced out of her defensive shell; I’d have to be put into direct danger, all the better for me to actually inflict some lasting harm on her.

I descended downwards, my coat flapping in the breeze as I hovered above Saber’s crash site. She’d recovered from her fall too late, not enough to stop the impending crash, but with ample time to have redirected her fall at the very last second.

“You don’t seem like the type to be particularly concerned with civilian casualties.” I remarked, watching as the car Saber had only barely clipped in her fall fled into the night. We weren’t in a particularly populated part of the city, we were only a few blocks away from where we’d started our fight and a little bit closer to the Church as a result, but there was still a notable amount of life here compared to earlier. They’d, rather sensibly, ran for their lives of course, but that was subject to change at any moment. “And yet you go out of your way to help them instead of focusing on the fight. Should I be impressed, or insulted?”

Saber climbed out from the rubble with minimal difficulty, the rubble crushed beneath her heel as she pulled herself out with as much grace as one could given the circumstances. Beyond the layer of dust that layered her like a glaze of powder onto a shit covered cake, she seemed largely unharmed. “My Master ordered that no civilians be harmed.” Saber remarked, voice cold. “It is only natural for a Servant to obey her Master.”

I quirked my brow at that. “And yet you still insist on taking this fight? Even knowing it goes against his wishes? How positively treasonous.”

It was difficult for one to look down on someone literally hovering meters above you, but Saber was rather remarkably good at it. “My Master is strong, but his heart is weak. We will not win this war with flowers and words, but upon the bodies of the slain. If he would not have the strength to do what must be done, then I shall serve as that strength and deliver the Grail unto him.”

Well that just didn’t make sense. “So instead, you alienate him by combatting any potential Servant that seeks to speak or parlay with him.” I mused. “That’s just idiotic, diplomacy and negotiation can exist in any conflict you know, not just this one.”

She shook her head. “Not any potential Servant. Just you.”

A moment later, the ground exploded as Saber kicked herself off towards me, blade spinning in vicious glee. I held my ground this time, instead pumping as much magic as I could into meeting her mid-air. The resultant explosion was a fiery one; I could feel my eyebrows fizzle at the sight of it, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if the pavement below got a little melted in the aftermath. Saber failed to generate a sufficient amount of momentum to reach me, and she found herself falling to earth, feet carving craters as she walked off the excess energy.

“You make this so personal, Saber. How unbecoming.” I sighed. “Honestly I don’t disagree with your assessment of the war; if you weren’t such a constant irritant, I imagine that my Master and yours could come to an agreement. I doubt very much that we’d have been sipping tea and eating biscuits, but it certainly wouldn’t be as unbearable as current matters are anyway.”

There, an actual physical reaction from her. Her shoulders squaring, her hand squeezing the hilt a few degrees tighter than it had done earlier. I kept attacking that angle.

“I’m uncertain as to whether you met the other Servants.” I began. “But taking what I know into account, I suspect that we’d be able to dispose of the others fairly quickly. With your strength and resistances versus my own flexibility and acumen, I imagine that we could end the war tonight, perhaps two nights, if Berserker’s as difficult to deal with as Ilya says he is-”

“Die.” 

My eyes widened slightly as Saber disappeared, the ground crumpling beneath her almost a few moments before a nearby building’s walls did the same. I adjusted my course, predictive algorithms running in my head, as I moved just quick enough to avoid Saber taking my head. Her blade impacted my shield, carving a deep, gruesome, gash through its defensive matrices as Saber crashed into the ground.

Not enough, not nearly enough. “Oh, c’mon. Now this is just ridiculous.” I complained aloud, my heart beating faster, the sound of it nearly overwhelming in my ears. “What are you doing? I was open, you had more than enough opportunity to take me down, what was that?”

She wasn’t committing hard enough, was putting just enough power in that she could feasibly kill me without overly draining her reserves. Why was that? She hadn’t been this economical in our first battle, what had changed? In any other situation I would have concluded that Saber was working alongside some other Servant, to herd me into a kill box, but that was just ridiculous. Beyond the fact that I’d been batting her around like a cat with its favorite toy, there was no possible Servant that could even be present for such coordination. Theoretically, Assassin could be in the wings, but burning that card against me when it could be going after my Master was just poor allocation of resources. I could see Emiya making that mistake, but Saber would recognize what a waste it would be, she’d caution him against it-

I paused, considering that. For all that she was a rabid dog, more suited to snarl and maul than anything else, she was not without reason. A loyalty to her master, a desire to win him the grail, a distaste towards his weakness, that her methods weren’t his-

My thoughts came to a halt, arriving to the inevitable conclusion as I laughed. It was a disdainful, mocking, sound- one that took very little effort for me to do. “Is that why you weren’t going all out?” I chortled, partially out of sheer amazement, partially out of total contempt. “Because you’re sneaking behind your Master’s back to fight me? Oh, Saber dear, I'm disappointed now.”

A failure of properly considering the opposition. I’d taken it for granted that only Saber and I would be on the forefront, because that’s a basic thing that any Master would ensure. That the human element in this partnership would keep themselves safe, while their Servants would fight things out. But when has any of that proved true for Saber’s Master? The fool had used a Command Seal to force his Servant to stand down before any agreement of non-aggression could be made, he’d rushed to the forefront, with two potentially hostile Servants in tow, naive and trusting. If he knew his Servant was in danger he’d rush here immediately, in keeping with his character certainly, but more in keeping with a death wish than anything else.

So as a response, Saber was fighting with the absolute bare minimum. As powerful a Servant as she was, there was no question that all that power had to draw heavily from Emiya in the process. Even assuming that he could handle such an exertion, any modicum of power that Saber would bring to bear would likely be something that her Master would feel as well. If she started blasting out beams of light and getting serious, then he’d know immediately that his Servant was doing something foolish, and he’d rush to her defense.

What an unfortunate predicament. A wellspring of pity and sympathy stirred within me, and I shook my head. “That’s rough, really it is. We don’t really get to pick our superiors, but it really is a bother when they try their best to kill themselves like that. My Master’s problems aren’t quite the same as yours, but I imagine that given the same situation-”

“Enough.”

I blinked at that, before looking down and getting a good look at her. There was emotion there, finally; something raw and painful, and it would be a wonderful thing to know that I could draw out emotion from this soulless automaton of a person if not for the fact that I had no idea what had set her off.

“Your sympathy is misplaced and unnecessary.” She spat, and I could feel her gaze burning a hole through her mask, straight at me. Well, I wasn’t one to back away from an easily exploitable weakness, so I carried on.

”So let me get your thought process right.” I noted, lowering myself slightly, all the better for her to strike out at me. “You didn’t want to alert your Master, so you’d committed yourself as little to the fight as possible. You’d think that maybe, if you were skillful enough, lucky enough, you’d have been able to kill me without committing yourself fully? That’s rather impressive, given the same situation, I imagine I’d have done the same thing.”

Those words, or perhaps my conciliatory tone, was enough to set her off. With a twist of her blade, crimson fanned out into the night, her blade sheathed in burning flames. An adorable little outburst, but one that was insufficient for my needs. I kept talking, my face adopting a curious look now.

“You’re really bad at taking compliments, aren’t you?”

She was barely moving, an abnormal stillness falling upon her, all her strength and focus intent on ensuring she dare not be pushed to a sudden decision. For my part, I knew that we were on a timer now. If she’d refrained from using that ability, then odds were good that the mana consumption from that was too severe for her to hide from her Master. Shirou Emiya was coming, and I had to end this now.

I killed my flight, settling unto the ground mere meters away from her. I gave her a sympathetic smile. “After you die, I doubt he’d be able to survive on his own. So don’t worry about it really, I’ll make sure that your Master is taken cared of.”

And there it was. A flinch, tiny and barely perceptible, but it was enough.

She rushed me, magically enhanced limbs closing the distance within seconds, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I mouthed the words.

One way or another, this was all going to be over soon.

* * *

A Heroic Spirit was a powerful thing, but such power was limited, drawn forth from their history and coalesced into our class containers. I’d thought on it before, that such a thing was meant to make us more easily controllable and I stood by that statement. But another element to this whole thing was that summoning me as a whole would have been...a rather difficult proposition. A Heroic Spirit wasn’t quite who they were in life, certainly things that the public had never known about would still be incorporated into my form, but their views of who I was nonetheless influenced my own creation. With billions of people looking at me, finding their own perspective of who I was, what I was, the results were obvious.

All told, I think that there were three or four classes that I could be summoned in, each with their own advantages and disadvantages, each as equally valid an interpretation of Tanya von Degurechaff as the last. I personally preferred life as a Caster, but that in and of itself might just be from a rather self-explanatory bias. I couldn’t imagine myself living as the ‘other’ versions of me, but that could just be the class containers doing its job properly, who really knew?

But even with that bias towards myself, I knew I wasn’t the most conventionally powerful of them all. Those other versions, they represented the facets of myself, carved apart and given their own existence, that were far more suited for war. For my part, I was the version of Tanya von Degurechaff that had known peace and that reflected itself onto my abilities. Metaphysically, I was not well suited to open combat; certainly I wasn’t bad at it, but comparing myself to what I would be as the Devil of the Rhine? There was no question who was the stronger of the two there. Still, that one led an existence far more empty than my own, though it was certainly an eminently more straightforward one.

But what could I do, as a Caster? What elements of myself had been carved out to bring rise to this version of me? What advantage does a Servant drawn from peace really have in this farce of a war?

Saber’s blade was fast approaching, the heat of her blade burning away my shield as it threatened to destroy me. I took note of the angle of the blade; Saber had not been idling mentally as we fought, the direction of her blade was such that she could position her blade for a quick follow-up, chasing me down as she presumed I would dodge away. I rushed closer instead, getting inside her guard as the blade swept the air behind me.

Noble Phantasms were typically rendered as weapons, but to think of them solely as weapons was deliberately hobbling oneself. They were weapons because that was the easiest way by which people could crystallize the achievements and actions of a given Hero, but they need not manifest as such. They could be crowns and rings….or conceptual ideas. Of the Noble Phantasms I had, their effect upon the battlefield were important enough, potent enough, that their secrecy was of the utmost importance. One I used in a limited enough manner that the extent and potency of it would be difficult for an observer to extrapolate its true nature, while another was something I simply had no intent of using.

But there was the third one, the last one, and that one had to be kept secret, lest the other Servants kill me for possessing it.

“For the Wonders are mine.” I chanted, my breath misting in the cool air. “An Age of Reason, built upon the Art of the Possible.”

I was not from this time, but brought forth from the future, to wage war in a world so similar yet so different from the first. As such, when the time came for me to lead, it was only natural for me to fall back on half remembered facts and trends from a world away. Sometimes they didn’t work out as I intended it to, and as the world grew closer and closer to the modern age the advantage I had grew near non-existent, but in that brief period of time where everything lined up?

I subverted systems before they could rot and fester, taking those institutions as my own. I preempted concepts and ideas before they were invented, stealing them from their rightful inventors. The people thought of me as a genius, as a woman beyond her time, which was true enough, but it was a facsimile of genius, nothing more than copying off the textbook without properly understanding the basic principles. Given that context, how would you suppose such an exaggerated view of myself would manifest? 

My hand made contact with Saber’s wrist, and her burning sword sputtered out to nothing. Saber’s lips opened, an expression of surprise wiped away only by the knife in my other hand, bursting into those same crimson flame, as the blade shattered with explosive force, shrouding Saber’s head in the explosive aftermath. I manifested a handful of armaments, staggering from the exertion as the munitions triggered and Saber’s own power was used against her, the explosions impacting her chest and cracking her armor.

Saber wasn’t stupid and her response reflected that. Her hand struggled against mine, her sheer strength significant enough that even my hand locked onto her wrist was having significant issues keeping hold. In response, a crimson tipped spike struck her through her wrist, locking her in place as she screamed in agony.

I repeated my prior exertion, feeling the sheer weight of the girl’s power weigh upon my mana, as an explosion enveloped us both in crimson, the heat charring Saber whilst leaving me relatively unscathed. I’d cracked a significant portion of Saber’s armor by this point, revealing pale flesh rapidly burning in the aftermath of my blows. I manifested another knife, wreathed once more in her power, and stabbed her heart.

A plated hand stopped me, the blade cutting through her armor as it stabbed into her palm. Through the flames I took note of a pale, citrine, eye staring at me through the partially shattered remains of her visor. Despite the current situation, I was taken aback. It was a beautiful shade for certain, but the sheer well of emotion in her gaze was not something I expected from the taciturn knight. 

Rage. Contempt. A fury that could ignite wars and ravage generations. There was a cold disdain in her gaze, burning so brightly and so deeply that I found myself out of breath. 

It was this opportunity that gave her the very thinnest sliver of opportunity. With my blade burning her palm to cinder, she tightened her grip against the blade and brought her hand down upon her other wrist. The blade was sharp, her aim sure, and in a single fluid motion used the now weakened structure of her wrist and the strength of my blade to lop off her wrist.

Instantly the crimson flames went out, Saber’s hand flopping to the ground, her blade in tow. With a swift motion, Saber rose to her feet, her knee rushing forward to impact against my chest, the melted remains of her plate armor leaving a bruise I was positive I’d be feeling weeks from now. 

I stumbled backwards for a moment, ignoring the pain as I watched with some degree of awe as Saber pull out my knife from her sole remaining hand with her teeth, the wound largely cauterized from the flames. I rushed forward, knives manifesting in my hands as munitions expanded by my side. I pushed against Saber, my blades aimed straight towards the newly carved weakness in her armor, as I fought to keep her away from her blade.

There were no more trump cards, not when the battle had devolved into this. Every time I would try to open my mouth, to activate one of my Noble Phantasms, Saber would respond with remarkable precision, punching me across the mouth for even trying. My knives struggled to aim for her heart, the armor plates shattered from her shoulder to her breastplate, as her handless arm set itself over her flesh, protecting it as best she could. All the while we stared at each other, blue eyes to her yellow, the spite and rage in her eyes unabating.

I wondered if she was always like this, or if it was my presence that inspired such relentless anger. It was almost frightening in a way, the sheer wrath in her gaze something I could well imagine surviving her death, but I pushed on regardless.

That eye was a vulnerability now after all, a new weakness to exploit. A knife rushed towards it, only for Saber’s hand to catch my wrist. She squeezed relentlessly, her strength brought to bear, and it was all I could do to maintain a shield around her grip to save my own hand. I grinned at that, and for the first time I could taste the blood in my mouth.

“A stalemate, then.” I chuckled. Her strength was such that it took all my concentration and magic to stop her from crushing me. At the same time, with neither her sword nor a hand free to use it, she couldn’t leverage her own strength to kill me. “What a conundrum.”

In response, Saber’s head rushed forward in an attempt to cave my nose in. I moved back quickly, readjusting my grip to account for the sudden movement. “You know, we really should wrap this up now. We’ve been fighting….who knows how long now? For all we know, Lancer’s about ten seconds away from killing us both, wouldn’t that be embarrassing.”

“As long as I see you die first.” 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that, consistent to the end at least. I closed my eyes.

Her struggling grew further at that, my shield barely holding as I summoned three visages above us. They were barely cognizant, the drain of my mana and the constant exertion keeping them not quite as effective as I’d like, but they were enough. Guns angled downwards as they shot at Saber’s exposed form.

I didn’t see the results, my eyes closed in an effort to maintain my concentration, but I could tell they were insufficient for a quick kill. Not that it mattered in any case; as long as she was helpless to respond in kind, I could guarantee her a slow death. Her reserves were low, presumably, but I was sure she still had some tricks up her sleeve. As long as I could respond to neutralize them as they arrived, I could kill her.

Of course, if I misjudged things, whatever tricks she may have would be sufficient to kill me instantly. I wasn’t exactly in a good position right now either, and at this point it could go either way; a funny thing to hear from the one with guns firing on her head, but it was true.

I wasn’t sure how long that state of affairs lasted. It certainly felt like hours, though I knew that such a thing was highly unlikely. More reasonable to assume it was a few minutes, though I knew when the stalemate ended.

A visage blinked out of existence, someone or something cutting it down with such totality that for a moment I didn’t even register it as gone. Moments later, the other two visages followed suit, and I realized what was happening. I opened my eyes, revealing a face that was rather less ravaged by my efforts than I’d hoped.

“Maybe you’ll get to see that death after all, Saber.” I whispered, before turning around and spotting the boy.

“I want to say, that this really isn’t what it looks like.” I began, smiling at Shirou Emiya. “Also, that this is self defense, but if you’re feeling somewhat protective, I suppose we could fight now as well.”

Emiya wasn’t dressed in civilian clothes anymore. Instead, he was clad in a priest’s attire not too dissimilar from Kotomine’s own, blades of an unknown design in his hands. He was looking at me strangely, which seemed only fair considering I was a few minutes away from carving out his Servant’s eyes with a rusty can opener. His blades were held aloft, ready to be utilized but not quite in the position for instant use, which I found promising. Saber struggled beneath me for a moment and I broke eye contact with the boy, turning my full attention back to Saber.

“I had a report from Sister Ortensia.” He remarked, and his voice was curiously….distant. “She said that a van filled with children arrived at the Church, and that it was being driven by one of your ghosts before subsequently disappearing. The identities of those children matched those of several missing persons cases over the past few days, were you responsible for that?”

“In a way, I suppose.” I chose my words carefully. “I rescued those children not too long ago from the docks, and thought it best to place them into the custody of the church. I don’t suppose I chose poorly, did I?”

There was a pause before he spoke this time. “That those children were saved is a big reason for why we’re talking so calmly for the moment.”

Despite myself, I smiled. “Ah, so it was the right decision. Lovely.”

He ignored my joke. “Sister Ortensia isn’t yet done cataloguing everyone, but not every child is accounted for. You know where the rest are, don’t you?”

This time, I had to think for a moment. “Maybe, possibly. But I want certain assurances.”

“Master.” Saber growled out, her voice angry. Desperate. “Don’t do this.”

I responded quickly. “Kill me, and you’ll lose information that may lead to the rescue of those children. You may find them eventually, but that’s precious hours, maybe days, lost. Do you want to take that risk?”

Emiya said nothing, though I could hear him approach. Mind racing, I blurted out my thoughts.

“I spoke to your sister, before all this.” I began. I felt Saber stiffen at that, but ignored it. “She was one of the reasons the rescue of the kids went so smoothly. Ilya had me promise that, no matter what else happened in this war, I wouldn’t hurt you. The only reason your Servant and I are like this is Saber’s insistence on murdering a prospective ally. Self defense, as I said.”

There were a few moments of frozen silence, before Emiya eventually sighed. “Caster, please get off my Servant. Saber, please don’t kill Caster as soon as she gets off you or at anytime after until I say so.”

“Master-”

Emiya shook his head, as I staggered off Saber, her gaze of outraged anger almost a fair price for this entire bloody night. “It’s out of my hands. Father Kotomine wants to talk to her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: The specific name for the Noble Phantasm would be the Art of the Possible. This is a bit of a risk as far as audience expectation of Caster Tanya's abilities may be, but suffice to say that the complete listing of Tanya's statistics would have her Noble Phantasm/s listed as EX. Hope it was an interesting read, if nothing else.
> 
> Edit: Typos have been fixed.


	34. X. Lancer

X. Lancer

He had never truly been afraid, at least not in the same way that other men were. There had been battles where he had judged his odds as poor, where he'd acknowledged that the most likely result of walking out into the battlefield was his death, but such a concept had never struck him with cold dread as it did his fellows. He was divergent, an anomaly even then, and such a divide from mankind had only widened in the intervening time since his rebirth.

These modern humans, they abhorred death, feared it. They saw the concept of battle and conflict as uncivilized, something to be avoided. Humanity's nature had altered, not too much, but enough that the resultant creature was...both alien and familiar to him, at the same time. Emer would probably have laughed at him then, calling him as an out of touch old man, angry that the world had left him behind.

Which wasn't really true, honestly. He wasn't angry per se, more disappointed, if he had to be completely honest with himself. Death was not something to be feared, not truly, not when it was something that came to all humans regardless of standing nor ability. For a true warrior, death was nothing less than a close friend; not so much an alien, ephemeral, thing but a tangible companion from breath to breath, a reminder of the time they had left. In life, it had held little mysteries for the man that was Cu Chulainn. In death, even less.

Lancer wondered, then, what a man of the modern age would think, were that man in his position.

When faced with the cold thrill that crawled down his spine, would they weep and beg for mercy, or would they stand and fight? When their fingers grew cold and numb, the sheer strength of the adversary meaning that even a glancing blow would enact certain death, would they fight on regardless? When their muscles ached, their hands shaking from the sheer force necessary to fight on, would they deride the situation as hopeless? Would they surrender? Would they cower? Would they beg for mercy and deliverance, from their gods, from their faith? Would they take strength from each other, or would they crawl on their hands and knees, pleading for their silver saint to save them?

Well it hardly mattered, he supposed. Facing this kind of monster, the particulars of a modern man would hardly matter, pointless speculation at the worst. Warrior or coward, saint or sinner, on their feet or on their knees, they would have died all the same.

The vehicle in front of him exploded, its metal shell turned to shrapnel as the monster crushed it beneath its heel, the sword in its hand cleaving the truck in two as it rushed madly onward. A stray hand grasped at the machine's remains as the monster surged past, plucking it from the ground, only to throw the pile of ruined metal at Lancer. A twirl of his spear led to the projectile exploding in mid air, the inherited velocity leading to a layer of steel rain falling on him; they shredded themselves against the concrete, sharp pings and puffs of dust blanketing his position. Wind shrouded the Servant upon contact, the metal shards pushed to the side even as the monster roared ahead of him, forewarning its mad descent.

Berserker landed unto the pavement, the ground crunching beneath its heels as the monstrous blade it wielded came down in a savage overhead smash. Nearly as large as the Servant himself, Lancer was forced to quickly move aside, spinning quickly to dodge his opponent's blow, the ground shuddering and bulging from the sudden kinetic velocity. A blur of crimson heralded bloody intent, Lancer's spear rushing forward to disarm the monster in the most literal way possible.

Only for the strike to rebound off the giant's flesh, its surface remarkably clear of even a scar from Lancer's efforts. His eyes widened, instinct pressing him to dance away even as the ground shifted beside him, Berserker's fists crushing the ground, mere inches away from transforming him into a pile of quivering meat.

Berserker tore his blade from the ground, spreading chunks of dust and concrete out into the air, before charging at Lancer once more, arms flailing wildly, at the cusp of, but not quite, falling over from its mad rush. Its feet crushed the weakened ground before it, a walking cataclysm with each step, every swing of its sword crushing all in its path as Lancer drew back, retreating into the darkness of the pier.

Berserker chased him, arms flailing wildly as it struck at Lancer, the monster's blade casting sparks with each calamitous clash of blades. Fire ignited along their path, flammable material spontaneously combusting into flames from the heat of their battle, even as vehicles and cargo were crushed in the titan's mad rush towards the spearman. Lancer deftly avoided whatever strikes he could, dodging away from as many of the blows as he could, while carefully redirecting what he could not. His bones shook upon every impact, the sheer kinetic force Berserker was capable of instilling with each strike distorting the world around them. The ground shook with each exertion, boxes shaking themselves loose upon their wake, warehouses creaking as Berserker roared and unleashed its might. It reared upwards, both hands upon the hilt of the blade, before slamming forth with a murderous cry.

The ground shattered beneath them, concrete breaking into shards and dust as the kinetic energy carved a hole deep into the ground. The sheer effort the monster had undertaken to unleash such power had dug the blade deep into the earth, the impact upsetting the surface so thoroughly that, for a moment, Lancer lost his footing.

But Berserker wasted no time, abandoning its grip on the weapon and reaching out with both hands, a murderous gleam in its eyes. Despite the sudden loss of footing, Lancer responded quickly, using the butt end of his spear as leverage to push himself over and above his opponent, to land directly behind the monster.

But if his opponent was only strong, only powerful, then the situation would not nearly be so grim. A flash of insight, an understanding of what exactly Lancer was doing, caused him to turn quickly, fist rushing straight towards Lancer's airborne form. The spearman gritted his teeth, abandoning his grip on his weapon, only to kick it straight at Berserker's throat.

Berserker moved quickly, flinching away from the lance, only to turn around once more and bite down on the offending object. Lancer's eyes widened, the monster snarling and reaching out, fingers barely brushing against the other Servant's form as he landed in a roll, gaining some distance away from his opponent as it gnawed against Gae Bolg.

Despite himself and the seriousness of the situation, Lancer laughed. "Oh gods, you really are just...you're crazy, aren't you? Not too surprising coming from a Berserker, but its always a hell of a sight to see anyway, isn't it?"

What else could it be, if not a Berserker after all? This snarling, savage, thing might as well be a posterboy for the class, though that in and of itself wasn't the most interesting thing about the monster ahead of him. Yes it roared like a savage, jumping to and fro, uncaring for injury, rage and violence in its heart; but ultimately that was all surface noise, immaterial to the heart of the matter. It did not need to speak, to tell the story of what it was; a warrior did not say who he was with pretty words, but revealed themselves on the battlefield with steel and blood. Words and promises were carved away, flayed to the core of one's being, relentless and pitiless until the mass of one's truth is revealed for all to see.

The monster gnawed away at the weapon still, and Lancer raised his hand. Gae Bolg stiffened for a moment, before vibrating madly and slipping past Berserker's teeth, rushing to its master's side in a blur of crimson. He grimaced, shaking the saliva from the weapon, just as Berserker leaped for the spearman, closing the distance with a roar that threatened to shake the world to its very foundations.

Lancer retreated, falling away from Berserker's flailing might, but even without its weapon the monster was relentless. Limbs flailed out, desperate and hungry, its crimson eyes burning in the shadows of the pier, smashing and punching at Lancer with a relentless fury borne of madness. The monster was not a creature of elegance or flexibility; every gesture, every exertion, breathed of power. His fists were not blocked, but deflected; the impact so overpowering that Lancer was pushed back in the aftermath, even as an explosion of concrete and metal signified the destruction of whatever had fallen below the monster. The wind howled in the wake of Berserker's fists, the impact carving crater after crater with each missed strike, its failure to land a lasting blow seemingly urging the monster on with greater fury. His steps were frenzied and haphazard, uncaring of positioning or defensive stances, only rushing forward to crush its opponent to death no matter the cost.

Lancer endeavored to make doing so as difficult as possible for it, darting back and forth, sinking into the darkness of barely lit warehouses and long abandoned vehicles, forcing Berserker to take the most circuitous route to reach him. The manuever did little to hamper him of course, steel walls and tin cans would not have been sufficient to stop Caster, nevermind Berserker, but the exercise was enlightening in other ways.

There was a calculation to the monster's steps, an instinct, or perhaps an awareness, that went beyond the conscious. There was a base cunning of sorts, hidden beneath the snarls and growls, perceptible only to those who know. The way it seemed to understand where Lancer would appear, regardless of the walls and steel he'd put between them, a predictive effort brought about by experience. The way its strikes seemed almost designed to build into a relentless pursuit, a thrown object here, a strike there, a savagely synergistic approach that was almost elegant in its sheer brutality. The almost tactical use of its body and presence to corral him, forcing him into tighter spaces, constricting the battlefield to Berserker's favor, bloody fists and all. Yet for all that, it was less a person and more a force of nature, a relentless vitality to the monster that seemed almost bottomless.

Because the creature didn't care about tiring itself out, it ran and roared and struck without reservation, a flaring, violent, existence that seemed to disdain the very concept of restraint. Servants were not physical beings of course, exhaustion did not come easily, nor in the same way as it did to humans, but neither were they functionally limitless. While the majority of the cost was spent by the Grail itself, by the land it had implanted itself in, a Servant's Master was still responsible for the upfront costs. Whenever a Servant acted out in battle, wherever and whenever it exerted itself, the Master would be drained accordingly.

And with the way Berserker was moving, the way it burnt mana by simply being alive, it hinted terrible things at just what it was capable of. Was it so uncontrollable that its Master could not reign it in, and its explosion of violence and power a signal that Berserker was slowly killing its host as it fought him? Or was Berserker's exertion a sign of something much more disconcerting, of a Master that was somehow capable of empowering and fueling that strength?

For all that savagery, it had yet to make a mistake, which was the truly remarkable thing. It snarled and roared, the brutality its blows concealing a base cunning hidden beneath the surface. It was tactical, strategic almost, in the use of its strength, never willing to allow him even a moment's respite. It struck always, unerringly, mercilessly, for the kill; adjusting its approach when prior options failed. Lancer was not sure, exactly, when Berserker had decided fists were not enough, but he certainly knew when it had deigned to solve that conundrum. A weighty slam of its fists upon the ground, shifting the earth, a repeat of its prior performance; he had been ready as a result, expecting another attack. Except in that gap of inattention, where he had been focused on his own footing and not Berserker, the damn thing had disappeared, reappearing with its blasted blade to nearly take his own head off as it burst through the wall in a maneuver that was passingly similar to an ambush.

Which was its own topic of interest, really. The stone blade was nearly as large as Lancer himself, more similar to a slab of shaped obsidian than anything worthy of the name, yet Berserker swung the thing with a breathtaking level of speed and precision. The blows did not land of course, otherwise Lancer would have been so much paste by now, but the intent was always there. Aimed for maximum damage, strikes meant to destroy his heart and shatter his temple, punches and kicks meant to fracture limbs; a mastery of combat that went past any singular weapon, not when its entire body was the weapon.

Lancer couldn't help but laugh. This was what he lived for, what he died for. The pounding of the blood in your head, the heat in your breath as one's hands grew cold, the kick of adrenaline as you stare death in the eye. It didn't matter that his spear could barely even scuff the damn thing's skin, he didn't give a shit that beating his head against Berserker's form was probably gonna get him killed. He needed to fight this thing, he needed to gnaw away at its bones, to drown it in his own blood. Every other consideration, of winning the war, of fighting the other Servants, blurring away into a bloody grin at what this thing could offer him.

The best damn fight of his life.

"You're not all that talkative, are you?" Lancer grinned, taking note of his surroundings. They were still in the docks, of course, but the beast had been crafty; it ensured that Lancer's back was always to the water, narrowing his potential escape paths as much as possible. "Hell, do you even talk? Or are you more the strong and silent type?"

Berserker roared, steam and spittle flowing out its mouth in a tide of rage, as the monster leaped forward. The ground shook beneath it, the foundation so shaken by their fight that when it landed next to Lancer, its blade carving out yet another bloody crater unto the ground, water ruptured from its impact point. The battle had strayed close enough to the sea, the dock so battered and bruised, that part of the pier had begun sinking. Berserker pulled out a massive chunk of the floor, the concrete seemingly weighing less than nothing to him, before throwing it straight at Lancer.

A twirl of his spear and a flash of red had the concrete slab cut in half before it ever even touched him, only to reveal another, equally massive, slab approaching with the same worrisome velocity. With another twist, this too was torn to pieces, dust and debris strewn about to reveal Berserker's onrushing figure coming straight at him, hand reaching out towards the smaller Servant. Lancer grinned, his spear set in a ready stance, all the better to respond to-

"Lancer."

The Servant blink, a look forming on his face that could charitably be called concern. A moment later he was gone, the space he'd resided now shattered as Berserker crashed its entire body into the concrete floor. Another explosion echoed throughout the docks, dust and flame from the battle forming a veritable smog from far above, as Lancer reappeared atop one of the handful of warehouses still standing.

The look he'd worn earlier was gone now, replaced by a calm, cocky, smile. "Yes, darling, what is it?"

The voice on the other side of his mental link seemed less than impressed. "Where are you, exactly?"

Berserker's roar echoed out from down below, a sound not unlike crumbling concrete; it seemed to be rather displeased of losing sight of its prey. "Oh, around."

Her voice had grown irritated now, the sort of fed up sounding tune that brought a genuine smile to his face. "Lancer-"

He blinked, a movement from the corner of his eye attracting his attention. "Ah, give me a sec."

The ground beneath him collapsed, metal and steel shredding away as Berserker came at him from below. The monster's leap had sent it crashing through the building, its blade only barely missing the other Servant as it rushed past. Lancer allowed himself to drop his vantage point, disappearing into the dark, smog filled, ruin as his feet hit running seawater.

"Master, I gotta say." Lancer sighed. "You're really killing the mood over here-"

"And where is here, exactly?" Bazett snapped back, furious, which only garnered an amused chuckle from him. He supposed he had to be thankful for the fact that she wasn't here, otherwise she'd probably smack him for that.

"One of Caster's toys had informed me that something was happening in the docks, so I thought hey- that sounds interesting." He began, a cheeky grin on his face. "So how was the operation, did Galliasta keep his word? Feeling as good as new?"

"You could say that, sure." She muttered. "But stop playing around, where are you really?"

"I'm not playing around." Lancer sighed dutifully. "I'm at the docks. Fighting. I don't suppose you and your Clock Tower contacts know anything about Berserker, do you?"

A note of exasperation. "Oh, you're fighting Berserker, right now are you?"

The building buckled for a moment and Lancer's gaze snapped above before disappearing once more. The ground cracked with Berserker's landing, the ground giving way to a sludge of dust and water as Berserker sunk shin deep into the sea. It roared, beating its weapon against the ground before lunging at his opponent, opening with a reckless looking kick. Lancer swept pass him, like a matador to a bull, and the titan's foot smashed through the wall, piercing through the warehouse to the next building over in its fury. Berserker growled, snapping its foot downward, and crushing the metal like so much tinfoil. Lancer shrugged.

"Eh, fighting's giving me a bit much. Surviving seems about right."

Silence, for a moment, before she spoke again. The irritability and frustration there was gone now, replaced by a cool professionalism. "Description?"

"Big, tall and ugly." Lancer remarked easily. "Sword the size of a mountain. Great hair though."

"Rock?"

He blinked. "The hair? No not really."

"The sword, Lancer." Bazett sighed. Her Servant cackled.

"Oh then yes. Rock. How did you know?"

There was a grunt of pain over the connection, which brought a note of alarm on the Servant's face. Berserker seemed to sense that moment of distraction, a flick of its hand, with more precision and accuracy than he would have possibly given it, sending the humongous blade straight at the Servant. Lancer twirled his spear, sparks flying as he deflected the blade, arms buckling as the sheer physical force sent him thigh deep into the water. A thunderous roar followed, Berserker launching itself into the air, fists raised high to pummel the other Servant to pulp. Lancer danced away, water splashing at his feet as the ground shook from Berserker's impact, the very earth tilting further into the sea as the foundation cracked and crumbled beneath them both.

Bazett continued on, either not noticing her Servant's discomfort or not particularly caring. "Reports from sleeper agents in the south of Greece, a few months before the war's start. Unknown party raided a temple, absconding with a piece of the tomb set within before torching the remains. The Association suspected that it'd been elements from the Ministry of Applied Paraphysics, but it seems like they were wrong."

There was a degree of mirthless joy from her words there, the kind of grim satisfaction that could only arise from the vindicated. "Guess I win the bet afterall."

"Master." Lancer gritted with a pained smile. "If you're going to be saying something actually useful, now would be a good time."

She scoffed at that. "Hercules, you're fighting Hercules. There's nothing we can do against him without prior preparation, so just get the hell out now."

Contrary to what might have been Bazett's intent, the revelation of Berserker's identity did little to sober the Hound, quite the opposite in fact. He set his gaze upon the towering figure, eyes alight with thought, even as Berserker leaned forward and plucked its blade from the water. "Hercules, you say?"

"Lancer." Bazett said, a note of warning in her tone.

"Well just hold on a second, little miss." Lancer remarked, jumping away from a strike meant to cut him in half. "Let's not get too hasty here. A one on one against Hercules himself? I may never have the chance again."

"Yes, because you'll be too dead for another try." His Master snapped, impatiently. "Do I have to make it a command?"

"Oh dear no, Master." Lancer smiled. "You know me, loyal to the end and all that, but think of the opportunity-"

"To get yourself killed you mean?"

"Well yes, I suppose." He conceded dutifully. "I still think I could take him, maybe with a Command Spell?"

Silence at that, before Lancer sighed. "Well alright then, but its still an opportunity. I can retreat as you desire, Master, but in doing so we might not have a better chance to win this fight ever again. Even if we worked together with Caster and Galliasta, in any case."

"What in the bloody fuck are you talking about."

Lancer blinked, crimson eyes staring calmly at the monster, at Hercules. "Berserker's trying to kill me, but its a mindless sort of hate, its not going all out yet. Its effort spikes at times, but only when I try to angle the fight away from the sea, closer to the land. Its trying to keep me here."

"So?"

"So its doing that for a reason, something this mindless wouldn't care about collateral damage, so its more like its under orders. There's no reason for a Servant to fuck around here without reason right? I'm willing to bet its Master's here, maybe retrieving something from the docks, maybe trying to run, fuck if I know."

There was silence on the other line, and even from here Lancer could feel the gears in his Master's head turning. "So if you can't defeat Berserker himself-"

"-then I'll kill its Master instead." Lancer nodded in affirmation. "Probably won't be too difficult, not unless Hercules is sharing its invulnerability with them anyway."

The water was deep enough now that combat here was untenable, not that the same was true for Berserker in any case. It seemed to relish the water, the sea now risen to its thighs; Lancer could easily imagine that damn thing keeping up the fight underwater too, probably tear off a boat's rudder and choke him to death with it as well, if prior efforts were any indication. The Servant focused his effort for a moment, jumping out from the sea in a flash of light, before skidding over to another, less submerged, part of the docks.

"So you knew Berserker's Master was on the field, but you never even tried to hunt them down?" Bazett huffed, incredulous. Lancer shrugged.

"I wanted to fight Berserker, not kill its owner. If they knew that I caught on to the fact that they were here somewhere, they'd probably recall their Servant so it could protect them right? Besides, the fact I didn't try, probably means they think I don't know. If we're thinking about beating them seriously, this is probably the best way to do it."

"Hmm. And what if you're wrong? Berserker could just be under orders to keep you occupied while the Master escapes. What if they're not even there anymore?"

"All the more reason to strike now, before they get away. If nothing happens, and Berserker keeps chasing, then I can just disengage right?"

Silence now, before a twitch of approval. "Fine. Do it, but regardless of the outcome you retreat immediately, understand? High Impact, Maximum Effect."

A hum of appreciation. "What about the civilians around here then? They're probably not gonna survive this."

"Anyone that's stuck around this long in the middle of everything going on is either an idiot, knows way too much, or both." Bazett dismissed easily. "We're well within our rights to silence them. Just do it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Gae Bolg twirled in his hands, the crimson glint of its tip seemingly brighter than usual, prompting a smile from Lancer. It thrummed quietly in his hand, expectantly, gluttonously, an aberration to the world with the eyes and knowledge to see it for what it was.

A great thud behind him, a subdued growl, announced Berserker's arrival. Yet instead of the relentless pursuit that the damn thing had been so content with, the creature merely stared. Its eyes snapped towards the weapon, the closest thing to wariness he'd seen this entire fight. Lancer's grin grew even wider at that, shaking his head incredulously, an amused, joyous, laugh echoing across the ruins of the pier.

"Man, you're fucked up." Lancer sighed, a look of respect and admiration on his face. "Absolutely terrifying, your Master hit the jackpot summoning you. What a card, what a play, I'm honored to stand on the same battlefield as you. Honestly, my only regret is that you're a Berserker; it would have been a pleasure meeting the man behind all that skill, though I doubt I would have lasted even a fraction of my current time if you'd fought me with all of your mind."

Berserker didn't think, not really. The skill, the decision making, the power; all of it stemmed from an instinct for battle that went beyond any natural application of force and effort. The Mad Enhancement upon him robbed the man of any appreciable higher function, but the sheer strength and natural instinct for battle made that loss of sanity a moot point at best. He had no idea how powerful Hercules would truly be outside of this class, but Lancer suspected that his physical parameters and overall strength would be a touch lower to compensate for having him properly be on the 'wheel', so to speak.

Which was a good thing, in this specific case. Lancer should have realized it earlier, but the talk with Bazett really did open his eyes in that regard. Berserker wasn't the type to hesitate to kill, to hesitate and misdirect his opponent, he was as straightforward as they came. It wasn't afraid to die, because as far as Lancer could tell it was impervious to anything he could reasonably pull out of his ass, but that also meant that if it stopped now, hesitated now, it was because of conflicting orders. It was like a machine, relentless when given clear and uncomplicated orders, but would likely stall if those orders conflicted with one another. If Berserker had simply been ordered to kill him, it would have rushed after him regardless, but that wasn't the case now was it? What if, in the effort to occupy him, Berserker risked breaking a prior order; perhaps a blanket order to keep its Master safe?

God, he loved it when he was right.

"See, I'm really curious now." Lancer smiled. "I'm thinking that, fast as you are, maybe I'm just a bit faster? I could probably set up a hell of a strike, blow up the other half of the docks we haven't fucked up yet, kill whoever's still there."

A pause. "You'd probably be able to kill me then. Spear out of my hand, completely defenseless, at least for a bit, but you'd probably be able to do it too, huh? But if I'm right, and I think I am, your Master's still over there. Maybe' she's paying attention, and she's running away from the blast zone right now, maybe she's not, and she's busy with whatever the hell's compelled her to stay."

Berserker growled, and his own grin widened. "But are you willing to risk it? The certainty of killing me, versus the uncertainty of your Master dying? I've been told that Berserkers are mad fools, absent of reason, so I wonder what you'll choose?"

For a moment, it stood there, completely still, lifeless as a statue.

Then, in the next moment, he disappeared.

Lancer was already moving, jumping up into the air, running against a warehouse's walls as he gained more distance. The sound of an explosion rocked the street below him, a roar of fury that he really wasn't all that interested in observing up close, as he spun his weapon into a flourish and jumped up into the air once more.

And yet somehow, impossibly, Berserker was already there to meet him. It spun its body around, the huge weight of its body turning an already dangerous motion into something deadly, and spun its limb at him like some ungainly club. The motion was wild and dangerous, yet perfectly positioned to crack his spine in two. Lancer was forced to respond, twirling his spear into a defensive block that cracked his wrists and brought a fresh surge of adrenaline into his system.

"Nice! Try!" Lancer growled, repositioning the weapon and using the newfound velocity to push himself forward. Berserker had chosen well, essentially shoving him further away from the docks, though it didn't really matter. He was still well within range.

A crimson veil fell over his weapon, the spearhead suffused with ravenous energy, as the aberration that was the cursed spear began to make its presence known. Lancer's eyes widened, his body turning numb, his focus, his very being, invested into this singular moment.

_**"Gae-"** _

Berserker appeared in front of him, its titanic form so wide and monstrously large that it completely blocked Lancer's line of sight. For a moment, he considered unleashing the spear's might anyway, enveloping them both in the bloody aftermath. He wasn't entirely sure if it would work, though a moment's pause would allow him to empower the blow such that it would likely pierce its defenses.

But even that was too risky now. To delay for even a moment here, now, would likely prove fatal. Besides, he'd already received his order after all. Bazett had wanted the pier destroyed, the enemy Master dead, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Lancer grinned as Berserker's blade rushed forward to end him. A subtle adjustment had its blade slide over the shaft of his spear, obsidian rock flaying the flesh from his fingers as he maintained the grip on his weapon. He brought his legs up to his chest, his feet on Berserker's own arm for a moment and used it as a springboard to launch himself up.

_**"-Bolg!"** _

The crimson spear left his hand, violent and hungry, passing so close to Berserker that its hair shifted in the aftermath.

Time seemed to slow, as Berserker and Lancer stared each other in the eye. One with a world of fury in its eyes, a calculating, menacing, instinct coming to an inevitable conclusion. The other with a smug, self satisfied, expression. The monster could kill him now, he was sure. With Lancer being this close and unarmed, with the blade in Berserker's hand, it should be child's play to the great and powerful Hercules.

But Lancer had been honest, when he'd remarked that Berserker's Master had hit the jackpot. A mindless monster wouldn't have such fear in its eyes; not for itself, but for its ward.

Berserker's knees rose up, an elegance and flexibility mimicking Lancer's own, before the monster kicked himself off at Lancer's unprotected side. Both Servants were sent spiraling away from each other, one deep into the sea, the other rushing madly forward in a race against a Noble Phantasm.

It was the last thing Lancer saw, before he was submerged in the frigid cold of the Pacific. His spear rushing onward, a bleeding star crashing to the ground, as Hercules rushed neck and neck to meet it. A moment later, the sky turned bright, the pier enveloped in a crimson light, and Lancer crashed into the sea.

* * *

Every inch of his body hurt, as Lancer fished himself out of the water.

It wasn't really fair, Lancer mused. Not a single one of Berserker's strikes had ever really hit him, something he was proud of honestly, but he still felt like he'd been put through the….ringer, he believed the saying went? The fact that the damn thing had an impenetrable defense was irritating enough in the first place, but for it to hit that hard as well? A part of him almost wished he'd actually killed its Master; in the off chance they actually survived, he doubted that Berserker would look very kindly for the assassination attempt.

His gaze strayed towards the docks, whistling in appreciation. It was well and truly fucked, as far as he could see. Parts of it were burning, curiously enough the section of the pier that he and Berserker had never even fought in, but the proof of their battle was clear enough to see. If it wasn't burning itself to cinder outright, then it had been drowned with the rest of the mess, architecture and warehouses sinking into the sea. Beyond even that was a crater, its center filled with molten rock, the sea rushing forth to fill the gap; the impact crater of his Noble Phantasm.

"Honestly, what a mess." He chuckled, before raising his hand. A momentary glint in the distance, something stirring within the impact point, before a blur of crimson rushed at him, a faithful mutt returning to its master. The Servant calmly caught it with one hand, a dull sound echoing from impact, as Lancer became whole once more. "How in the hell do they expect to cover that one up, I wonder."

"The usual excuses probably." A voice called out, bored and conversational. "I think it was gas leaks as per usual, hmm? Kotomine may be a creative bastard at the worst of times, but he really does half-ass his work if its not directly related to pissing people off."

Lancer back stiffened for a moment, before relaxing. "Oh? You personal with the priest or something?"

"Not really no." came the dry response, as a black and red Servant with white hair dropped down to the street. "But this looks a bit more extensive than a house blowing up in the suburbs. The Priest is gonna have a hell of a time trying to cover this up."

Lancer tried to still his breathing, mind racing as he considered his options. He remembered this guy, from when he'd been scouting the Church out; it had been him, Caster, and the swordswoman at the time. If the old man was itching for a fight, he would have started something before he had his weapon in hand. He'd probably noticed the fight between him and Berserker and had done the reasonable, cowardly, thing and just watched it from afar, waiting for things to work themselves out. That thought made him instantly dislike the guy, though even he knew that he was being unreasonable about it, before turning to look at the other Servant in askance.

"So, are we gonna fight now or what?" He asked casually, twirling his spear until the weapon nestled itself between his neck and shoulder blades. "If you want, I can wait here while you do a few stretches and warmup exercises. I hear old age is murder on the joints."

The man laughed, a dry, amused sound that soured the man even further in his eyes, as he motioned to his hands. "I think I'll pass. For a Servant to be so capable of fending off Hercules himself? A simple man such as myself could hardly compare, though I suggest you get that looked at and recover for next time. I doubt Berserker would be as forgiving towards you next time."

The surprise that came with the Servant knowing who Berserker was quickly dissipated at the realization of just what exactly he implied. He turned back to the pier, eyes narrowing in an effort to spot the enemy out. After a moment's effort, he turned back to the other man.

"With eyes like that, you must be the Archer then." He remarked, voice thoughtful. "So what do you want with me then? If you're not here to fight, then what then?"

He seemed thoughtful at that, before sighing. "For now, nothing. Your presence means that Ilya's likely going to be gunning after you, or rather, her Berserker will. Even if you did nothing, your very existence is likely to distract Hercules towards you, which is an invaluable thing in and of itself."

Lancer scoffed, before mentally cataloguing the name he'd dropped. "Gee, how helpful. What were you, a fucking saint in the last life?"

"Just a fool, for the most part." Archer remarked, prompting another flash of irritation. "But no, I have other matters to attend to now. Though if you're feeling particularly magnanimous, there is something I'd like for you to do."

"Oh? And what's that."

"It would cost you nothing, and doing so would likely be valuable to both you and your Master." He shrugged. "But keep an eye on Caster, would you?"

Lancer kept his breathing stable, his body betraying no sign of recognition at the name. "Oh? And why's that."

Archer smiled, a smug, amused, expression. "If you hadn't realized the why by now, you'd likely never will. But take it from someone with experience on the matter. You're gonna regret it, if you don't."

With that, the man jumped upward, rushing into the darkness as he jumped over to a nearby roof, before disappearing completely. Lancer held his ground for a moment, studying his surroundings, on the lookout for a final, parting, strike. When the attack never came, his face soured even further, before spitting on the ground.

"What a prick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Apologies for the delay. It was my birthday last week, and as is the eternal custom, a large amount of my free time was eaten away by interaction with family.


	35. 4.4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Happy new year to everyone, and thank you for your patience for the delays. This is a rather long chapter, though it was planned to be longer still, before it was ultimately cut in twain for brevity’s sake. All things considered, I'm rather proud of how it turned out, and enjoyed writing it. Hope you’ll all enjoy it too.
> 
> Edit: Paragraph partially eaten during posting- fixed and edited.

4.4

I could practically feel Saber glaring at me as she followed behind her Master. The venom in her gaze wasn't exactly surprising of course, considering our previous interaction, but it did serve as exactly what I needed to sober me up from the rush of battle and allow me to take stock of my situation.

Perhaps it was her Master's driving need to ensure that the children were safe and sound, but Emiya had proven remarkably good-natured regarding the fact that I'd 'disarmed' his Servant. At the very least he hadn't engaged me in combat or instructed his Servant to do the same, merely rushing to her side once he understood the extent of her wounds. He'd certainly seemed rather...disconcerting at that point, but that was understandable considering what I'd done to his partner, as well as the aforementioned rescued children. It was only natural for the boy to be so emotional at the time, most people would after all, and while not necessarily a bad thing I knew that most would not be able to control their emotions in such a way. Most people would be horrified to the point of uselessness at what my Master had done, such that any rational action would be quickly overtaken by the instinctual need to _do_ something.

It wasn't a rational or otherwise useful impulse, but it was a very human one nonetheless. This momentary truce with Emiya was assured only by the information I possessed. Once he knew, the certainty of such an alliance, however temporary, would be gone. I didn't expect him to turn on me of course, not whilst he was so thoroughly distracted by Galliasta's crimes, but once my Master was dead Saber would undoubtedly suggest my immediate death.

It meant that, for the moment, this uncertainty was an opportunity I could exploit. Though whether I could use it to its full potential was something I wasn't entirely sure of just yet.

The snowy crossroads I'd engaged Saber in, and the highway our battle eventually concluded at, had brought us closer to the Kotomine Parish itself, which was supposedly what alerted Shirou Emiya to our location. Apparently, reports of unusual temperature spikes in our immediate environment helped narrow down our location, with Saber's fire being what ultimately led him to us.

Something to consider, for future engagements. Regardless of my feelings towards Saber, neither she nor her Master seemed the type to lie; the former because of her pride, the latter because of his good nature. The implication that Emiya wove was that it was only due to our actions that he was able to find us, and not so much Saber calling for his help or, more importantly, her draining a significant amount of his mana reserves in that fight.

This meant that the next time Saber and I were likely to fight, I should not pattern her possible method of attack on prior engagements. Where she had been reserved and reactionary at the time, studying me and searching for a mistake, that had occurred under relatively calm circumstances that enabled her the luxury of studying me. The swordswoman has since sustained an injury to her pride, she would not be operating under strictly objective standards, and now that subterfuge had failed in eliminating me in an opportune moment, she would likely move towards the exact opposite strategy now. To come at me with maximum effect, to overwhelm me with her superior firepower before I could respond, or before her Master could so foolishly interfere. My next fight with Saber would thus, likely, be significantly more difficult and far more destructive than the last, something to consider for the future.

Nonetheless, while the outcome of our fight had favored me somewhat by virtue of Saber's injury, it wasn't the decisive victory I wanted. Saber had wasted her opportunity to kill me without her Master's awareness, and my effort had been insufficient in neutralizing her while her guard was down. Once the pair had been given the time to converse, I imagine Saber would be able to successfully convince her Master to let her off the leash next time. It was hard not to argue that I was dangerous when I'd forced her to cut off her own hand to fight me properly.

I glanced behind me. Saber and her Master were lagging behind, seemingly deep in conversation. Emiya was looking at Saber with concern, which she seemed to respond with some degree of annoyance, the Servant still clad in her armor despite our little truce. The artifact remained damaged, a chunk of her breastplate above her heart having been sheared off, the edge of the melted steel showing signs of her own power turned against her. I didn't know what I'd stolen, my Noble Phantasm didn't allow me to acquire such information easily, and if there were any hints from the Throne as to her identity I'd not quite received any. Nonetheless, the fact that I'd damaged her armor was good, as it was a weakness I could exploit in the future; I doubted, or at least I hoped, that such damage was severe enough that she wouldn't be able to repair it any time soon.

The girl's hand, the one that had been lopped off, was now attached to her stump via a long piece of crimson cloth that Emiya had brought with him. I wasn't entirely sure if that would allow her to keep the hand, though considering her Master's speed in tending to Saber's injury it was certainly possible, but I doubted whatever priestly mysteries Emiya was capable of would be sufficient in this case. Heroic Spirits were rather complex constructs, all things considered, and even if she'd manage to retain the arm's function, I doubted it would return to a level comparable to her pre-amputation state.

Saber seemed to notice my eyes on her, and I could see her visibly stiffen at my attention, the swordswoman glancing towards my direction. Her visor was partially damaged on her left side, revealing a single, citrine, eye staring at me with baleful disdain. Emiya glanced over to me, seemingly worried at her Servant's sudden response, only to meet my gaze. The smile he gave me was somewhat difficult to parse, halfway towards the kind of empty, polite, expression a waiter might have in an understaffed restaurant and the calculated caution of a skittish rabbit. I smiled, which prompted him to respond with a matching smile and a curling look of contempt from Saber.

In times past, I suppose I would have tried to ameliorate the situation; to smooth everyone's tempers and stifle any bubbling resentment. But at this point? Honestly, I couldn't even bother to _pretend_ to care. It was made abundantly clear after our first meeting that coexistence simply was not possible over the long term, but any spike in hostilities between Saber and I were mitigated by a pacifistic Master and the impression we were deadlocked vis a vis our fighting ability. Now that she _knew_ I had the means to break through her defense, I'd undoubtedly jumped towards the top of her kill list, if I hadn't been already. Not an unreasonable response, all things considered, but now that I'd lost the element of surprise I had very little confidence in my ability to neutralize Saber if it came down to it.

Conceptually speaking, the Art of the Possible was extremely potent. It's utility meant that it was likely to be the most versatile skill in my arsenal, the ability to briefly appropriate a degraded version of an opponent's Noble Phantasm while denying them its use, but it still followed certain limitations. I needed physical contact with a Heroic Spirit, flesh to flesh contact was preferable as it ensured the target could not break the hold, but access to an item of theirs such as their armor or weapon would serve in a pinch, though doing so would further degrade the stolen ability, as well as open the possibility that they might resist my efforts.

I had very little say in how, exactly, my legend was crystalized into certain abilities. Throne didn't exactly collaborate with its Heroic Spirits in min-maxing an optimal use out of us, but supposedly this particular phantasm had risen from my more subversive tendencies in life. Specifically the corruption of systems for my own gain as well as the attribution of the achievement of others to my own, which I found rather unfair all things considered. I'd done nothing but operate stringently along the laws and customs of my time, and I'd done my very best to ensure those that had innovated during my reign were rewarded and credited accordingly. It's not my fault that idiots would look at a country's technological development, see that I was coincidentally the head of it at the time, and assign myself the supernatural talent of driving technology forward by my very presence.

Still, I wasn't one to shoot the free horse in the mouth, or however that old saying went, and so I'd done my very best to take advantage of such an ability as much as possible. Despite its rather impressive primary effect, the Art of the Possible wasn't strictly limited to a Servant's Noble Phantasm per se. I could use it to hijack a magic user's spellcraft should it prove necessary, but the uses of such a thing were so limited that effective use of it was rather circumstantial. Not that certain conditions could not be manufactured to take advantage of it, anyway.

Einzbern's familiar clinked within my coat, the wireframe bird still and cold, prompting a small smile on my face. I dismissed the thought, continuing onward with purpose.

It wasn't impossible to fight Saber now, but the fact that she's _aware_ meant that any subsequent fight came down to a contest of skill and luck. I wasn't a coward, I knew my purpose and the best way by which I could facilitate the completion of my tasks, but I was hesitant in engaging Saber without something to tip the balance. I was out of trap cards; of the three Noble Phantasms I had, the Art of the Possible was my best bet in neutralizing Saber with minimal after-effects. In regards to the other two, one would likely be insufficient in piercing through her defense, while using the other…..

….using the other, I'd rather lose than have to resort to using _that_. For a variety of reasons, not the least of which would be petty spite.

I heard a cough to my side, and I turned, only to see Emiya staring at me with some determination. The boy seemed to have summoned a sliver of his resolve, looking at me with a degree of determination that hadn't quite been there before.

"Caster, we need to talk."

I sighed. "It seems I have quite a lot of people to talk to. First, your Servant, what with her being so excessively rude-"

"Saber had her reasons." Emiya frowned, which I ignored.

"-then I'll need to talk to the Priest with his charming personality, but before that, I'll have to talk to the priest's apprentice's apprentice, do I have that right? You, with the remarkable background and the myriad of roles assigned to you. So who is it exactly am I talking to? Are you talking as a member of the Church? As a Master in this war? As Shirou Emiya, even?"

The boy blinked at that, though my words seemed to have riled up his Servant, who practically leapt to her Master's defense. She moved forward, placing herself between her principal and myself, eyes glaring defiantly at me.

"Consider your next words carefully, Caster." She said, words confident for a woman that had been armless not moments ago. "If you would not be civil, then let me remind you that it is only my Master's goodwill that saved you from me."

"Saved _you_ from me?" I scoff, incredulous. "Saved you from cutting up more of yourself, perhaps. From demonstrating a proper filleting technique with your arm next, perhaps? Or are you suggesting that you have a new act for your little circus performance? A two for one demonstration, ripping off both limbs with your teeth, maybe? If so then please, don't let me stop you."

Whatever response Saber had in mind was interrupted by her Master, who gave his Servant a concerned look as he stepped out in front of her. The path was now rather absent of the snow and mush of earlier, water dribbling away from Saber's position, as though the very air itself burned along with the woman's temper. The pair stared at each other for a moment, something passing through their gazes, before Emiya turned his eyes back to me.

"I'm speaking as myself, as Shirou Emiya." He said, a confidence so clear in his tone that I almost believed him. "I need to know more information about the children. What happened to them? Where did you find them? Who was responsible?"

I quirked my eyebrow at that. The reason for why he'd want to know these things were….well, it was fairly obvious. The boy was not particularly complex, as far as I could tell he was actually fairly one-note; the kind of rabidly helpful personality that lends itself well to religious work. If I pointed him towards my Master, told him what he'd intended to do with the children, I could be reasonably assured that Emiya and Saber would designate him as a priority target, which made the entire situation rather tricky. I wanted my Master dead of course, but I couldn't kill him _too_ quickly lest I get myself caught in his murderous death throes. Presuming that I required outside intervention to secure a kill on Galliasta, or at the very least distract him to provide myself with the opportunity, Emiya would be a useful pawn to assure it. At least he would be, if I chose to use him in that way.

I sighed, using the gesture to buy myself more time to think. "And why exactly do you need to know this information? If I was speaking to the Church, such information would possibly be useful in returning the children to where they belong. If I was speaking to a Master, then that implied a coordinated response to this stunning display of ethical bankruptcy. What would you intend to do then?"

He blinked at me, seemingly confused by something I'd said. Emiya's eyes were crisp and clear, neither the slightest hint of hesitation nor doubt. "I'd kill them, of course."

"Easy enough to say," I remarked. "But when the chips are down, I've seen plenty of would-be killers crumple when the moment arrives. Have you seen someone die in front of you before, boy?"

What a curious reaction _that_ question prompted; the light in his eyes dimming to nothing, a blank stare meeting my inquisitive one. There was a frosty tint to his stare now, a detached look that seemed vaguely familiar to me, though I couldn't quite place it. "Yes."

I didn't allow myself to be tripped up by that, of course. Whatever bothersome little issues the boy had was no concern of mine, especially not when it threatened to distract my focus. "And have you ever personally killed someone before?"

A bit of color returned to his eyes, that glacial certainty melting as a frown blossomed on his face. "No."

"Ah well, it's quite different from just watching someone die you know." I waved him off. "I won't bore you with any sanctimonious garbage, if you intend to kill whoever did this out of some misplaced sense of moral outrage, then that's completely fine-"

"It's not like that." He replied, stubbornly. "Whoever kidnapped all those kids are gonna do it again. They have to be stopped, otherwise, they would endanger more people."

"Hmm, a rather utilitarian perspective, and I can certainly see the value in that," I remarked. "I imagine that most would agree with that perspective, especially in this context; few would argue that someone who had kidnapped these many children did not deserve swift and merciless justice to fall on their heads. Their death would, almost assuredly, be an unquestionable good."

Emiya seemed rather taken aback by that, though he recovered quickly. "So you'll tell me what you know?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," I remarked, which prompted a deep frown to bloom on his face. "Assuming I even had any such information to give you, I'm almost certain you'd screw it up. Perhaps you'd go to the perpetrator's lair, Saber in tow, and try to fight your way to your villain step by step? In the best-case scenario, the perpetrator is not a combatant in the Holy Grail War, and all you accomplish is murdering a cabal of child kidnappers while threatening the secrecy of the war. Undoubtedly it would make more work for Sister Ortensia in that case, though I imagine she would palm off most of the work there to you, considering that you'd made that mess in the first place."

"In the worst-case scenario, you stumble into the pre-prepared Killzone of another Servant and their Master, where you will die needlessly and anticlimactically, to the greater good of no one but your ego. Do you imagine that someone like this, who had prepared such methods and measures, did not know what they were doing? You'd embarrass yourself _and_ Saber in the attempt. Either way, it would be a meaningless distraction at best and a suicide mission at worst; I don't suppose you have any experience in assaulting a heavily fortified position do you?"

He gaped at me like a fish, uncomprehending. Much to my own satisfaction Saber had neither stepped in to defend her Master or rebut my argument, so I continued. "If I had information that could be pertinent to the imprisonment or death of the perpetrators responsible for the kidnapping, I would simply hand over that information to Father Kotomine himself. Considering that he is the arbiter for this war, he seems to be the one best positioned to do something with what I may or may not have to offer."

"But they're kidnapping _children_ ," Emiya said, a world of disgust in his tone. "I can't stand by and do _nothing_."

"Why not?" I shrugged, carelessly. "It has very little to do with you, and there are other people more suitable for taking action. You gain nothing from actively seeking out that fight, and in due time the perpetrators will be brought to justice without any direct intervention from you. I would suggest you let the matter lie, and trust that the matter would resolve itself one way or another."

I trudged on, the snow pleasantly glazing my path in its shimmering glow. It wasn't until I'd taken perhaps half a dozen steps that I realized Emiya was not following.

A glance backward revealed that the boy had his gaze set to the ground, eyes shining darkly in the moonlight, and for the first time in our interactions I found myself taken aback by the would-be priest. His fists were drawn into themselves, nails digging into his flesh such that I was surprised he hadn't yet drawn blood from his palms. His entire form radiated conflict, as though some internal energy could not be compelled to obey, and was instead tearing the boy apart from the inside.

It seems that I'd said the wrong thing then, the boy did not seem to respond well to reason. I'd have to readjust my strategy.

"I can't accept that," Emiya said finally, shaking his head. "I can't just stand by and do nothing when there's something I could do. It's just….you make sense, I know you make sense, but I just can't."

I sighed. "It's something of a danger sign, for one to concede that the other party has a point, but for one to carry on with their irrational delusions regardless. Do you not have faith that Kotomine would handle the matter properly?"

My words seemed to surprise Emiya, his eyes glimmering widening with shock before he burst with laughter. It was a bemused, bitter laugh, lasting only for a few moments before it choked abruptly in his throat.

"I….I think that Father Kotomine will do what he must, not what is best." He smiled ruefully. "And it's exactly because of that, that I have to do what I must as well."

I frowned at that before ultimately sighing. "You're speaking nonsense, though I suppose that's your own prerogative. I've seen enough young men with fanciful notions in my life and I've quite had my fill of them; if you must spout your half-baked philosophy please do so while I'm well away from you, thank you very much."

"Wait a moment, I have a question-"

"I'm not telling you anything about the children, Mr. Emiya. I simply have no reason to."

"Then what if we trade? A favor for a favor, and I-"

"No." Came another voice. Crisp, high borne, tones drawing Emiya and I from our conversation. Saber looked at the both of us, eye shining and unyielding, though for once the swordmaster was looking at her charge and _not_ at me.

"I refuse to indebt myself to Caster." Saber intoned, her words brimming with an unknown emotion. "I refuse to coordinate with her, upon pain of death. You would have to use your Command Seal, Shirou."

"Saber-" the boy began, only to be cut off.

"This woman is a _menace_." She hissed. "She is a destructive force built only to destroy and corrupt and deceive for her own benefit. To align ourselves with her would be to doom ourselves whilst empowering her with the means to destroy us. I will not allow it, not while you may allow me the privilege of free will."

Emiya seemed gobsmacked by Saber's sudden outburst, and while I was rather put out by the gist of Saber's argument regarding me, I _did_ agree with her point. Owing me a favor, in this case, would be tremendously unwise; I'd been thinking not ten minutes ago about how best to use Emiya and his Servant as a pawn after all. Saber's caution was wise. That she was making a stand here to deny her Master access to me, a prudent course of action. Which, of course, meant that I was basically obligated to ruin it for her as much as possible.

"I'll consider it," I remarked out loud, prompting a hopeful glance from Emiya and a more enraged look from his Servant. I raised my hand. "I'm only considering it. I have much to think about, and I do wish to speak with the Priest before any further moves are made. I suspect that it's most likely going to be something about the children and if so, hearing about the arbiter's opinion on the situation seems like the natural thing to do before proceeding with any further steps, no?"

"Shirou, you can't be seriously considering aligning yourself with her." The Servant growled, which took Emiya back for a moment. He smiled at his Servant, a dull, witless, expression so perfect that I was nearly convinced of his authenticity.

"We'll just be hearing her out, Saber." He shrugged. "Besides, you agree too right? Whoever's doing this, whoever could be responsible for all those victims; they have to be brought to justice."

Saber said nothing at that, merely giving a non-committal sound with all the affection of a disgruntled mutt. I looked up at the sky, the snow falling in ever-larger amounts. "I think we've wasted more than enough time, with this nonsense. Is there anything else you'd like to say, Emiya? I imagine that your priest is going to enjoy talking my ears off, and I would very much like to preserve them as much as possible."

Emiya shook his head. "No, but thank you for hearing me out. You know, you talk a big talk about being cold and ruthless, but I think you're a lot more kind than you let yourself be. Talking to me about those kids doesn't really benefit you either you know."

"Is that so? How magnanimous of me." I remarked, waving him off as I turned away from him.

Neither he nor his Servant said anything more after that, which I considered a blessing, all things considered. Soon enough we continued onwards with our journey the two of them whispering to each other from an appropriate distance as the snow fell over the three of us, leaving me to ruminate on events past.

" _Your brother? Really?"_

" _Yep!"_ _The white-haired homunculus smiled, even as things clicked and turned at the back of my mind, prior events taking on a new light. "No matter what else happens in this war, you can't kill him. He's a bit of an idiot, sure, and I can imagine he's going to do something stupid before the war's over, so you're probably going to cross paths more often than not. I won't ask you to look out after him, even his Father couldn't really stop my onii-chan from doing something if he really wanted to, but you can't kill him either or Berserker's gonna rip your head off!"_

_The black monolith beside her breathed, steam vaporizing the wintery air around him, even as Ilya smiled, all charm and innocence. I coughed._

" _As you said, he's a stubborn one. A situation may arise wherein he is actively engaging me in combat and a….clean disengagement is impossible."_

_Ilya looked at me, disbelief seeping into her face. "What? You think you can't...what was that? 'Disengage' from my brother if you absolutely had to?"_

_I shook my head. "Not from your brother, no. His Servant? Quite possibly."_

_She seemed to pause at that, considering, before shrugging. "I don't care about Saber. Kill her, ruin her, desecrate her corpse however much you like. That thing had failed the Einzbern in ways so profound I would relish her death, so feel free to do what you want with her. You can hurt Shirou too if you have to. Onii-chan's still young, he can take a beating or too; just make sure to keep him intact and not dead, m'kay?"_

My mood soured at the memory. I wasn't necessarily bound to such promises, this was no magically binding contract or geas after all, but I had to measure the consequences of breaking my deal with Einzbern versus the utility of neutralizing Saber and her Master both. It would be a poor trade, in that neutralizing one Master and their implacable Servant, I merely traded them for another, more fearsome, pair. Without sufficient data, I was unwilling to antagonize Berserker or its Master, so compliance was the only straightforward path.

Shirou Emiya (or was it Shirou Einzbern) was a more irritating topic, however, though admittedly a great deal of that annoyance was to myself than to the boy. That baby lamb routine of his had me completely fooled, all ignorance and general likeability such that it lulled his enemies into a false sense of security. A member of the Einzbern Clan, sent into the Holy Grail War under a different alias, embedded into the Holy Church as its pawn with his loyalty ultimately guaranteed to his family than the Church. It was an ingenious move, telling me more of how much more thoroughly the Einzbern had prepared for this war than the Matous or the Tohsakas, and I wanted in.

The Lady Einzbern was the prize of course, but given the strength of her Servant and the unknown details regarding its abilities, a difficult challenge. On the other hand, here walking by my side was another Einzbern, his Servant still weakened from her fight with me and seemingly incapable of holding a grudge at me for what I'd done. Such an advantage had to be taken as quickly as possible before her injuries healed and her window of vulnerability closed.

I could lead them to the Tower, force his Servant to smash her head into the building's defenses, his moral outrage and impulsiveness a potent cocktail to force his hand. Once there, I could separate him from his Servant, kill Saber in the ensuing conclusion, and forge a new contract with the boy. After I killed my Master of course. Considering that his base of operations was being invaded by an enemy Servant, I would rate fairly low among his ongoing priorities at that point. If I moved quickly enough, I imagine that there wouldn't even be a struggle, not that the bastard deserved a quick death anyway.

It was a straightforward plan, though one with significant danger involved. To manipulate the Tower's defenses into striking at Saber and not Emiya would be difficult, but not impossible. I had to also ensure that Galliasta would die at the exact moment he needed to, not a second earlier or later than was necessary. If I acted too rashly, there was a chance that Galliasta would be able to save his own life and use his Command Seals, after which the plan was shot all the way to hell.

Yet I didn't really have a choice at this point. With Galliasta's crimes revealed and one of his facilities destroyed, it was clear that the man was as inking boat that I needed to bail out of within the first opportunity. It was time to cut him loose.

* * *

The Church was uncharacteristically lively by the time we arrived, though a brief moment of observation made the reason for that quite apparent. You see, my visages weren't actually sapient to any notable degree, they had more similarity to computer programs than anything else, capable of rigorously following a flowchart of behavior but with little creativity or initiative to call their own. As such, when I'd sent my visage off to deliver the children to the Church, it had prioritized my command beyond all other considerations. It hadn't cut a swathe of destruction between where on the way to its location of course, but the guiding 'intelligence' of the visage had not seen fit to consider something as mundane as a steel gate to serve as an adequate obstruction to its task.

We stepped through the ruined gate, metal charred and bent, to study the controlled chaos ahead of us. There were more Church servants present, women in nun habits going to and fro, collecting the children and administering to them as much as they were able. My visage remained on the premises, a silent, shrouded, figure standing by the truck where a few of the children had collected themselves. Sister Ortensia walked among the group, seemingly a part and apart of the chaos as she seemed to serve some form of advisory role towards the rest of the clerical staff. She noted us fairly quickly, abandoning the rest of her group with a glance before walking up to us in a trot.

"You know, you're being rather inconsiderate to our maintenance staff," Ortensia noted, almost playfully. "I believe we'd only just managed to install that gate with a sizeable donation from our flock; now we're going to need to have to replace it again and figure out how to explain the damage at next Sunday's mass."

I snorted. "Tell them a handful of Germanian tourists had a bit too much fun last night. Let's say they crashed into the gate, drunk out of their minds, only to have encounter Kotomine, who beat them over the head with some rubbish about Christ and sent them on their way, sober and penitent. That's the sort of transformative tripe that the Church likes to use, no?"

The nun quirked her eyebrow at that. "And would those Germanian tourists contribute to the repair and replacement of the gate? Or did they wander off into the night like thieves, ashamed of what they'd done to inconvenience their fellow man?"

With that, I smiled, rather cheekily if I did say so myself. "Oh but of course! Never let it be said that a citizen of Germania would not know how to settle their debts. All you would need is to send the invoice to my Embassy and explain that it was by my direction. I'm sure you'll get _quite_ the response then."

Ortensia wrinkled her nose at that, though whether it was out of displeasure that I'd cut our game short or some other reason wasn't particularly clear to me. She glanced towards Emiya, a searching look that, remarkably, had the boy withdraw into himself, like a wayward son to his disappointed mother. Another glance towards Saber merited a much more notable reaction, her eyes widening substantially at the apparent injuries she'd sustained, her gaze lingering on the crimson cloth around Saber's hand. Amusingly enough, the nun's reaction did nothing to merit a response from the swordsmaster herself. Now faced with a being the Servant presumably hated less than myself, Saber merely looked on coolly at the nun, her sole visible eye placid as a still lake.

"I was about to say that I was wondering where you'd gone to in such a rush, Shirou." She noted. "But I think I can put _that_ together fairly well."

"I um. Sorry about running off, like that." The boy apologized profusely, only to be met by a sigh and a clasping of her hands together, as though only by her fingers packed tightly together could she resist the urge to smack her wayward pupil. "Father Kotomine asked me to-"

"I'm sure that whatever it was Father had asked you to do, it didn't involve getting either yourself or your Servant in such a state. Also? Sorry implies a dedication to never again repeat one's mistakes, Shirou." Ortensia explained patiently. "I'm not quite so deluded as to imagine that you doing something idiotic could possibly count as a one-off experience."

Whatever Shirou's response to the nun was lost as I dismissed the conversation from my attention. The boy and his problems, or rather the problems that the boy represented, were a big enough headache for me to deal with in the future. I had no interest in being overly interested in his personal life, Einzbern had not tasked me with being best friends with the whelp after all, and so my mind went to the more practical consideration of studying the Church grounds.

The last time I'd been here, I'd been surrounded by and in the company of Archer and Saber. As a result, any opportunity to study the grounds was rather limited in scope; despite our supposedly neutral surroundings, I had no desire to lower my guard while within melee range of either of those two. As such, I'd only managed a fairly limited reading of the Church grounds themselves.

Still, even that minimal reading was enough for me to acknowledge that this place was protected by more than just steel gates. There was magic here, deeply buried into the roots of this place; a magical leyline, protected and obscured via similar means as to the Tohsaka household. The inlaid defenses were different, divergent enough from what had been installed around the other leyline that I was positive that what I was seeing were Church techniques instead of the familial magic that the Tohsaka had employed.

Such defenses would be no less significant, and for a moment I wondered how my visage had gotten away with breaking through the Church's gates with so straightforward a method. I'd not actively considered the steps necessary to assault the Kotomine Parish of course; if things had gone so far south that assaulting the neutral arbitrator of the church was necessary then odds were good that the war was not progressing particularly well. Despite that, it was impossible not to let the mind wander as to _how_ such a maneuver had to be done, just in case such a plan was needed, and in none of the potential scenarios I'd concocted did I imagine breaching the Church's gates to be so simple as to run a truck through it. I knew little about the Church's particular brand of abilities, prayers, and traditions that the Tohsaka library had very firmly characterized as apart from magecraft, even if I'd seen very little practical difference between the two, so I could only guess as to how they got through.

Did they see my visage coming? Were they able to identify that I'd sent it? When did they do so, how far did their eyes see into the city? Saber and I had tangoed violently enough for Emiya to notice our presence, but was that because of the story the boy had concocted for us or because he had been borrowing Church resources? Emiya was already an accomplished liar, what with his infiltration into the parish on behalf of the Einzberns; it was well within reason that he'd simply lied to me again.

Rather pointless musings, perhaps. Certainly, there was no way to definitively prove the existence of a city-wide, or at least district-wide, network of observers for the Church to rely on, but it made sense. Considering that Emiya was one of them, access to such resources would be invaluable, outstripped only by the need to deny that access to others.

"-honestly you should be thanking Caster here," Ortensia remarked, her mention of my title drawing me forth from my thoughts. "I can only imagine that if not for her assistance, Saber would be in even worse shape than she currently was."

My lips curved slightly as I studiously did my best not to look at Saber's reaction to the nun's words. Emiya's eyes widened in confusion, before the girl's words registered and panic set in. "Ah, would you happen to know where Father Kotomine is? I believe that Caster-"

"Oh?" Ortensia purred, a rather _un_ christian like sound emanating from her throat. "You wouldn't be trying to escape now, would you, Shirou?"

The boy seemed taken aback by that, though before he could say anything more the crunch of soft snow against armored boots drew my attention as Saber went up towards the two. With her uninjured hand, she gently pushed the boy aside as she faced the nun. I watched, equal parts amused and intrigued, as Saber held herself in a protective stance in front of her Master.

Was this the first time I'd ever seen the woman act in a protective fashion? I'd only ever seen the Servant in an offensive posture before, and yet here she was, actually defending her Master from his teacher's chiding.

"My Master asked you a question," Saber responded, her voice only very slightly giving emphasis on the possessive adjective. It wasn't rude or demanding, but somehow it did more to emphasize her presence than her shouting ever would have. "It was my Master's purpose to bring Caster to that man, and I would have him see it through. Are you standing in the way of his purpose?"

Emiya sputtered at that, apologizing even as Ortensia's eyes widened with mischief. It was a rather picturesque moment, made all the more precious by Saber's possessive claiming of her Master. I took it in for a moment, studying and observing the three.

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, a premonition of violence and malice so poignant that it nearly manifested itself into the world. I found myself turning away from the nun, ignoring the startled look from Emiya, as I set my sights to the sea behind me. Off to the side, Saber matched my movement, turning her eyes to that same distant pier with such speed that we were nearly in sync. Perhaps the first and only instance of such a thing ever occurring between the two of us.

For an instant, an artificial morning stretched forth across the horizon in the shape of a crimson star. The air shimmered in the sky, as though it were a fabric stretched to the breaking point, a dim glow bathing my surroundings in its bloody light. A moment later, we were struck numb by the thunderous roar of its power, an explosion of screams that echoed something wrong and cruel out into the world. I magnified my vision, the innate mechanisms of the spell minimizing the bloom of the fiery aftermath as the high vantage point on Kotomine Parish allowed me a more comprehensive look upon the ruination below.

Even with that advantage, there was precious left to see. I recognized the remains of the pier I'd been in not even an hour ago, but only due to my familiarity with the streets and passageways leading there in the first place. The vast majority of the structure was now gone, what had not been vaporized by the magical explosion now sinking to the bottom of the sea. Warehouses were gutted from end to end, the shockwave having stripped them of their shell-like in some of the earliest videos of nuclear weapon testing, their contents strewn forth into the sea, if not vaporized entirely. The streets, what remained of them, had flooded quickly in the aftermath, water rising and diminishing against the newly formed crater as the ground cracked and threatened to sink more of the island into the sea.

It was all rather impressive really, and definitively settled the identity of who the other Servant at the docks had been. The last time I'd seen that distinctive crimson light was in the hands of Lancer, with that bloody spear of his, which meant that I'd only narrowly escaped identification due to Einzbern's efforts. Of course, when the girl had mentioned a distraction, I'd expected something less….visually impressive than this, but I wasn't one to argue about means when the result so obviously favored me. I suppose I really did owe her for her efforts now, irritating though the thought may be.

"W-what was that?" Emiya muttered into the ensuing aftermath. The explosion had shaken the crowd, causing several of the children to cry in terror as the clerical staff did their best to calm them down. Credit where credit was due, they were doing a remarkably good job at responding to them, and I noted that they carried out their tasks with minimal acknowledgment of the explosion. Not normal people, in all likelihood; quite probably trained by Kotomine or Ortensia, and was either aware of or experienced in dealing with the supernatural.

"Oh, an explosion, I suppose." I shrugged nonchalantly, before turning to look at Ortensia. Her teasing demeanor had washed away, almost as if Lancer's Noble Phantasm had personally wiped it off her face. She was all business now, eyes meeting mine as I drew her attention. "Now, please. Would Father Kotomine be in attendance? If he has business with me then I'd like to settle it quickly; as you can see, there _is_ a war going on right now."

The nun quirked her brow at that, before allowing a small nod in my direction. "Very well. Father should be within his office, tending to some unrelated business. He has decreed that you are granted safe passage through the Church; there is a set of stairs on the second door after the altar that would lead you down into the Church's crypts. He will be waiting for you down below."

"Thank you kindly."

With that, I turned away from her, my attention on Emiya and his Saber. The swordmaster's gaze was still on the distant pier, her eye studying the aftermath with the intent and practicality of a well-worn tactician. Emiya himself was staring at the cloud of ruination with equal attention, though that edge in his gaze told me that he'd retreated into that little shell of self-righteousness that he sometimes wore. To his credit, he was not so lost that he did not notice my attention on him, and he managed a weak smile.

"I'll see you later then, eh?"

I scoffed internally. I certainly hoped not. Nonetheless, as much as I found his sanctimonious attitude rather grating, he was still a better alternative to fucking Galliasta. Outwardly, I nodded to him, before making my way to the church, though I made a slight detour to greet and smile at the children as I did.

Funny little imps, some of them even cried and asked me to pick them up, which I gently rebuffed. It was better for those kids not to grow attached to a ghost. It was likely the last time they'd ever see me again, though that was undoubtedly a good thing. If I'd managed anything in this life, I could say that I'd done an unambiguously good thing in helping them. The thought helped ease my feelings of disquiet, as I finally entered Kotomine Parish.

* * *

I couldn't help but feel rather unnerved as I delved deep into the catacombs. Part of that was undoubtedly due to the fact that these crypts seemed so ancient that the layer of dust I was traversing through seemed unmoved since the Second War, but I was also fairly sure that my anxiety was derived from the fact that I was even in a Church at all.

In life, I'd always managed to finagle my way through ever really being on Church premises in the first place. Every time I'd done so, I had this sneaking feeling, an overwhelming sense of paranoia, that _It_ was watching me. That whenever I traversed so-called 'sanctified' ground, that Being X was somehow watching me, mocking me as I walked through the life it had forced upon me. As a military officer, such concerns were easily remedied; if I ever found myself in a Church, odds were that it had been ravaged and destroyed by the war waging all around me, which satisfied me such that I rarely ever had issues stepping foot within. An irrational fixation, I know, but considering that Being X had pretended itself to be some sort of god, seeing those places of worship brought low _did_ give me a certain degree of satisfaction at the time.

As it would be rather impolite for a visiting head of state to demand the destruction of Saint Simeon's Basilica prior to every one of my state-mandated visits with the Pope, I oftentimes found other venues to hold meetings. Thankfully, for whatever reason, every Pope I'd ever interacted with all the way to my death had been largely compliant with my requests. I imagined that a part of it was due to some institutional gratitude over the Liberation of Ildoa during the Second War, but I suppose that it was partly political pressure from the Ildoan government as well. Beyond the Germanian successor states that had, for whatever reason, opted not to rejoin Germania, Ildoa fancied itself as a close ally to the state. Civil war within itself notwithstanding, they liked to suppose themselves as Germania's earliest ally in the context of the Second War, which I found rather funny all things considered.

But yes, even on my best day, visiting these places of god had my trigger finger itchy and my arsonist tendencies manifest themselves more thoroughly. With Kotomine Parish, that urge was only doubly manifested; at least those other churches I'd visited had a sense of decorum and properness about it all. The only thing this Parish had accomplished so far was making my skin crawl.

It did have rather impressive acoustics, however, such that I heard Father Kotomine long before I'd actually seen him. His voice echoed across the dust and cobwebs, an admirable sort of cadence in his words for someone so old.

"...assured that the proper investigations will be conducted, and any perpetrators brought to justice." Kotomine soothed, apparently in deep conversation with another. "Be that as it may, there will be those that will be less convinced. In such a case, it would be best to neutralize and amnesticize them for the time being. They need not die, not unless other options are no longer feasible, but they should be kept out of the way for the time being."

A pause, before he spoke again. "Such concerns are hardly warranted. Local and national agencies are to simply repeat the same line; that the weather abnormality has since passed, an event that has concluded with naught but wondrous passers-by remarking upon such unusual weather conditions. Such things are common abroad, and in Fuyuki more so, there is nothing to fear."

Another pause, likely from whoever it was he was talking to, before he spoke again. "Oh I'm sure that the shock of such sudden weather conditions had merely confused and addled those onboard, I'm sure that if you were to interview the passengers again, they would change their tune."

Ahead of me was the soft glow of what appeared to be candlelight, bleeding through past the cracks of a particularly weathered door. It creaked open as I approached, seemingly sensing my arrival, and thereby allowing more of Kotomine's voice to escape into the dark. "The Fuyuki Pier matter is still under investigation, and should be repeated as such to all relevant news agencies for the next six hours, whereupon it would be recorded as incompetence stemming from out of date maintenance records. All authorities seeking to repair the damage or investigate as to the cause of the incident should be subordinated as per usual protocols."

The room within was an old, nearly ancient, place. Though not at all out of the ordinary to what would be expected from a study, beyond being buried beneath a church and of a decorative style several decades out of date even by the standards of the '50s, it nonetheless thrummed with a certain degree of power and purpose. The parish leyline's doing, undoubtedly.

I was faced with Kotomine's back as I entered the room, the man seemingly holding onto an old-timey rotary phone; for thematic purposes, presumably. I couldn't quite imagine anything more modern than a typewriter residing here, personally. "Ah, but alas, I am out of time. Please direct any further concerns to Sister Ortensia, you will find that she will be just as apt as I in regards to any further concerns."

With that, the priest set the phone down onto the receiver, the sound nearly concurrent with that of the door slamming shut behind me, setting it aside before turning to me. His eyes were bright as he considered me, a degree of his attention focused onto me that seemed both sympathetic, in that unbearably vomit-inducing, patronizing, way that came so easily to the priests, as well as irritatingly self-satisfied as well. I would say it was almost remarkable if doing so would not undoubtedly cause him to be even more unbearable than he already was.

"I'm reminded of that old saying." I began, leaning on a nearby wall. "Choose to work on something you love, and you'll never have to work a day in your life or something to that effect."

Kotomine chuckled. "You flatter me, Tanya. Service is its own reward, is it not? I am blessed in that the work I do is both good and necessary. Not everyone can claim the same."

"Oh, I'm sure. Though if I'd known that Theology was such a versatile career path, I might have actually considered it when I was young." I drolled. "On the one hand you've got the kind of priest that would give alms to the poor and destitute, and the other you have the kind of man that organizes hit squads and covers up domestic terror incidents as hallucinations and unfortunate 'accidents'. Does the Holy Church pick out which of their flock are most suitable for wetwork during their orientation, or is that an option next to the soup kitchens and the charitable missions?"

The old man's smile widened. "Close to the mark, I would say. My own Father was never an Executor, but saw in me a talent towards the calculated application of violence and foresaw in me a career towards that path. He did not understand his son, a singular blemish in an altogether virtuous life, but I am nonetheless thankful for the foundation he had given me. I could not possibly imagine what the man called Kotomine Kirei would be, without his guidance."

I quirked my brow at that, before collapsing on one of the seats. It was comfortable, but still too _stiff_. As though it had only recently been bought. "Parents not understanding their children, a tale as old as time. Though now that I think about it, aren't priests supposed to have children? I think I recall something about clerical celibacy, about all you god types dedicating yourselves to that man in the sky, and all that?"

"Kotomine Risei was a good man, with a remarkable sense of duty." Kotomine intoned. "Certain allowances can and have been made for exemplary individuals and Risei Kotomine was an exemplary man. Nothing less than exemplary would have been sufficient to survive the Third War as he did."

My fingers tapped against the seat. "Is that where you attribute your success to? Risei's experience in observing the Third War thus allowing you your victory in the Fourth?"

If I was expecting any outward reaction at that, I was sorely disappointed. Kotomine said nothing at all, merely maintaining that amused, shadowed, smile that threatened to make my skin crawl. I broke the silence first. "Your boy mentioned that you wanted to talk to me, which felt like a convenient enough excuse to interrupt my discussion with Saber. Did you _really_ want to talk to me, or was that just an excuse, and I should probably rush out there and go mano a mano with that arrogant bitch again?"

"Ahaha. As much as the sight of you engaging that Heroic Spirit would undoubtedly be a sight for old eyes, Emiya Shirou is indeed correct." He smiled. "I _did_ ask for you. I imagine that you think this has something to do with the children you have so unceremoniously dropped at my doorstep, but while they may be tangentially related to my intent for tonight, they are not at all the core of my concern."

He turned away at that, walking towards an area that seemed almost suspiciously like a kitchen as he spoke. "There is no need for wordplay or doublethink here. The walls of this place ensure that no words will pass through this room unless explicitly intended to. In the past, this was used as a rather more personable alternative to the act of confession. These days, it is far better suited to the conduction of more moonlit affairs."

"Ah, so you _did_ intend for me to hear all that just now," I remarked impishly. "How melodramatic of you, Kotomine."

"Please, call me Kirei." The Priest smiled. "But such an admission is nothing less than a token of faith to you, Chancellor. I abhor deception, I prefer being direct in all things, and I would like it if we spoke more openly to each other in the short time that we have."

"That's easy enough, I suppose. Though I still have no idea why I'm here."

Silence from him again, except for the tinkling of metal on ceramic. Eventually, the Priest reappeared with a mug of hot cocoa. I was rather taken aback really, such a sweet beverage seemed to run contrary with what the man himself would likely enjoy, but I knew better than to reject it out of hand. He placed it into my hands, that same self-satisfied smile on his face before he eventually took a seat opposite me.

"To talk, obviously. One that is well overdue, I think" Kotomine sighed into his seat. "It is unusual, but neither surprising nor uncommon, for a Servant to act out against their Master's wishes. But in all prior situations that I'm aware of, such rebellion typically ended with the Master either reasserting their control over their Servant via a Command Seal or the Servant murdering the Master in a fit of pique. The fact that neither has happened yet is rather curious, wouldn't you agree?"

If not for the subconscious expectation of something to this level being revealed, or the fact that the cocoa in my hands helped to center me for a moment, I imagined that I would have actually appeared surprised at Kotomine's statement. As it was, I merely took a sip, the richness of the cocoa suffusing my body with a welcome warmth, before setting my gaze on the priest.

"I thought you were supposed to be a neutral party to this war," I remarked smoothly, determined to allow not even a slip of weakness to reveal itself.

"No man is completely free of their own biases, no matter the oaths they make nor the promises they keep." Kotomine intoned solemnly. "Yet in this case, I see no reason to interfere so directly in a matter between Master and Servant. I have not reported your actions to your Master, though it is only a matter of time until he begins to piece things together."

I huffed, leaning deeper into the almost comfortable couch. As disconcerting as it was for him to speak such sensitive topics in the open, nothing he said was particularly surprising or even unexpected to me. "It's not your place to do so anyway, 'neutral' observer. Though how you can possibly claim to be neutral with Emiya running around is anyone's guess."

"My daughter's apprentice is merely….in your parlance, something of an investment." He said, smiling. "A final act to a long, sad, story. His value to me comes not so much from his qualities as a human being as it does the role he will play when the time is right. Rest assured, my attachment to him goes only so far as your attachment to your rifles. A favored tool, though one easily enough disregarded and disposed of when necessary."

"Uh-huh." I said, unconvinced. "That's _definitely_ concerning."

"Did I not say we were free to speak openly here?" He asked rhetorically. "That includes self-delusions, the roles we play to function in the situation we find ourselves in. It is a difficult thing for you, I'm sure; after a lifetime of acting out the role expected of you, I imagine that you would not know how to live without a mask firmly placed upon your face. To live a life so full of deception, is it not a wonder that your mind has twisted itself so?"

My temper flared at that. "Oh? And does that mean you get to abandon the role of some understanding priest then? Reveal the freak that you really are?"

"I am what my creator intended to make me, a broken creature with a mind twisted and unfit for others," Kotomine remarked calmly. "There was a time, when I was younger and foolish, that I pretended to be something that I was not. A foolish waste of time and resources, when my efforts would have been better spent on other, more interesting, things."

I didn't know what to say to that, and so instead I brought the cup of cocoa to my lips. Somehow, despite the sugar on my tongue, it still tasted bitter. "So what? You wanted to talk about how you wasted your life? Believe me Father, if you wanted to go on a-woe-is-me tangent, I don't think yours would even be the first I heard tonight."

Kotomine smiled, and for the first time, I noticed that he too had his own cup of cocoa as well. He drew the cup in with withered hands, drinking deeply from it before speaking again. "With the magus Atrum Galliasta, you were well-positioned to win the war handily. With a strategic overview of the city, resources matching or outstripping that of the Three Families, and an army at your back, you should be well on your way to dismantling the rest of your competition by now. Why haven't you?"

Despite the heat from my mug, I felt a chill set into my bones before I chided myself for it. Of course, the priest would know that he was the arbiter of the war, he probably knew every Master on a first name basis. "I see no need to discuss my strategic decisions with you."

"Your strategic decisions? Such as taking the resources your Master had gathered for the express purpose of winning the war and setting them free?" The priest remarked. "Such idiocy does not match your legend, Tanya. You would know better than to expend such a resource."

I scoffed. "So what, I stand by and watch Galliasta piss away human lives for the mana equivalent of a cup of coffee?"

"No of course not." Kotomine smiled. "Such resources are wasted on that man's methods, but you know well enough by now that this war is being fought by children and incompetents. Teenagers with ill-conceived notions of who they are, boys and girls not yet hardened to war. If not when speaking with the Emiya child or the Einzbern brat, then doubtlessly when you'd seen the Matou's little fit of pique. You would have recognized that the vast majority of those fighting in this war could be swept aside relatively safely if you only had the stomach for it."

He leaned into his chair. "Surely you considered it, even for the briefest moment. The boy's self-righteousness would not allow a crime as massive as what Galliasta had done to remain unanswered; you could have used the children as bait to lure the Emiya boy and his Saber into a compromised position. In conjunction with Lancer, you could separate Saber from her Master, or perhaps even rig the warehouse itself with explosives and catch the boy in the crossfire, so as to minimize exposure to yourself."

I found myself standing now, though I didn't quite recall ever having done so. My mug had cracked in my hands, scalding cocoa spilling itself around me, though I could barely give a damn to that in the first place. Kotomine seemed unperturbed at my reaction, eyes filled with an excitement and thrill that threatened to burst out of his body. The Priest continued.

"I've seen your hesitation with Rider. Matou Sakura and Tohsaka Rin were too busy reenacting childhood rivalries and bitterness to notice that you had taken the upper hand against the Matou Servant." He recited carefully, as though going down a pre-prepared list. "You could have killed him then; you had him at your mercy, but in the final, critical, moment you hesitated and so he was rescued by Archer. Was it because he was a child? Surely it was not an unwillingness to kill, you'd certainly proven your talent for butchery often enough tonight. Perhaps if he was in his other form, you would not have made such a crucial mistake."

"Is there some point to this, Kotomine?" I asked, feeling strangely….vacant at the moment. Neither outraged nor disturbed, merely a sense of calm that set my heart beating wildly, a spell at the tip of my tongue. "Whatever protections you have here, whatever spells set to defend you from me, it would not be enough. Why antagonize me like this, when you risk yourself splattering across the walls?"

"Because I wish to." He smiled, neither fear nor hesitation in his gaze, the exuberance in his eyes almost obscene in his excitement. "I do not believe you would be able to kill me, but you're welcome to surprise me yet again."

There was a pause, pregnant with purpose before I spoke again. "Is this a hobby of yours? Calling out people, dangerous people, that could kill you in the blink of an eye and pointing out their failures and mistakes until they kill you out of spite? A rather dangerous hobby."

Kotomine chortled at that, a peal of laughter that sent his frail body wheezing and coughing, though he did not seem to particularly care. Blood and spit dribbled past his mouth, frail hands wiping them away in an instant.

"Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable." He chuckled. "For you to hear those virtues, to hear your acts of mercy, your human compassion found at last, and to condemn them as a weakness! As a mistake! For you to abhor goodness and yet embody it with every step, as to be expected of you, I suppose."

"I have no idea what you're on about," I asked, utterly confounded, utterly at a loss for words. Kotomine didn't seem to care, rushing onward like some out of control bull.

"This newfound perspective of yours, it is such a fragile thing." Kotomine intoned, almost reverently. "You have always been ignorant of yourself, cognizant of your actions but utterly blind to your own inner world. You would so easily snap this newly found compassion of yours like a twig for the chance at victory, for that is an integral part of your nature. You would know it only as an obstruction, that it stood in your way and thus had to be swept aside. With your heart of silver, you would carry on, butchering who you must, slaughtering who you must, until you would finally reach the end without ever realizing what you had sacrificed in the process."

He leaned closer, his smile ghoulish and obscene. "I could not allow it. You had to _know_ what this was, you had to know what it is that hampers you so, if for no other reason that you would be completely aware of what it is you would be throwing away in the process. In this form, as a Caster, you embody the legend of Tanya von Degurechaff as a peacemaker and bringer of stability. Of that part in her life that had sought and achieved victory not from the obliteration of her foes, but from mutual benefit and peaceful collaboration. Of _course,_ you would not be comfortable with the more bloody aspects of war; certainly, you could imagine it well enough, but to actually commit to it would be a betrayal of your very nature."

Somehow, impossibly, the smile widened. "But in this war, there can be no mutual collaboration, only butchery, and violence. You had understood it immediately back then you know, though I suppose making that comparison would be somewhat unfair. _That_ version of you had never truly left those bloody trenches, what else could she offer in that form, except for an unsurpassed appetite for violence?"

There was a moment of vertigo, his words, the implications, clicking and snapping together until the conclusion was inevitable. I found my breathing turning shallow, my eyes hyper-focused as a rifle manifested by my side and blew the priest's leg off. Blood splattered us both, though neither Kotomine nor myself flinched at the sudden dismemberment. Though his leg tumbled to the side, I could not help but hear the telltale hum of insects chittering in the aftermath.

"Ah. There she is." He sighed, almost entranced. "Do you think that crippling me would make a difference? That I would wish to run? Where would I possibly wish to be, if not in this place, at this moment?"

My heartbeat violently in my chest, and if I were still mortal I suspected that I would be at the brink of a heart attack. "I think you're right. We _have_ been long overdue for a talk haven't we, Kirei?"

"Oh almost certainly, though you are quite lucky in that regard." The Priest smiled beatifically. "After all, who better to help you catch up than an old friend?"


	36. 4.5

4.5

The blood pounding in my head, robbing me of my thoughts, my reason, stilled and cooled at his words. My eyes stared into his, my heart slowing, as reason slowly reasserted itself and I slowly considered my actions and his words.

I still kept my guns pointed at him though, just in case. I shook my head, a look of contempt on my face.

"You? An old friend? Now I _know_ you're lying."

Kotomine blinked politely at that, tilting his head slightly as he leaned forward in interest. "Oh? And what makes you think that I've been deceiving you in some way?"

"Because I know who I am, Kotomine," I said resolutely. "I'm not sure how it goes for other Heroic Spirits, but I still remember my past. I remember the trials I've faced, the wars I've fought, the people I killed. The disgusting muck of the ground as I trudged through a war-torn hellscape, the blistering heat of the Afrikan sun, the last dying breath of a foolish little girl."

Unconsciously I felt my voice turn wander some, a more thoughtful quality to it that I didn't particularly try to adopt or manufacture. "It's distant now, I suppose. The important events pop out to me, like the heart beating climax of a middle-some movie; spikes of vivid color in a drab palette of black, white, and red. The particulars escape me, much how age would….scrub away the irrelevant details."

My eyes settled back onto Kotomine, who seemed to be watching with undisguised fascination. The wound on his leg remained open, and I watched with open revulsion as I saw chitinous legs peeking out of his wound, the flutter of insectile wings as _things_ scrambled beneath the surface. I turned away from the morbid sight quickly. "Be that as it may, I remember who I am. I _knew_ who I am. The Tanya von Degurechaff of the first war, of those trenches, was fighting for her life. She was desperate, she was angry, ruthless."

"A reasonable assessment." The priest remarked calmly, devoid of the mocking tone from earlier such that I couldn't help but feel suspicious. Nonetheless, I continued.

"You claiming to be her 'friend'? That tells me all I need to know about how genuine you really are. No one could be her 'friend', anyone and everyone around her was a tool to be used and expended if necessary and the fact that you don't seem to acknowledge this is the most egregious thing of all. Either you're lying, whereupon that version of me was never summoned, and you're just screwing with me for who knows _what_ reason-"

"Or?"

I gave him a sour look. "Or she deceived you into thinking she was your friend while using you as a tool for some reason or another. I've only ever known you for a rather limited time, priest, but our handful of interactions tell me that you're no fool."

There was a strange look on his face, a degree of vitality and curiosity that seemed to wipe years away from his face. "So you require some degree of proof then? That you were summoned?"

"Not me," I stated firmly. "My past self. But yes, absolutely."

I'd expected him to falter at my demand, for him to abandon his little game for the rather ill-willed ploy that it was, but he did not. Instead, his gaze shifted to the side, away from me and towards what looked to be a reinforced desk of some sort. I say reinforced, not because of any notable modifications visible in its frame, but due largely to the fact that I could practically sense the unusual protections inlaid over it; magic intrinsically similar to the Church defenses I'd sensed above by the courtyard.

"Will you permit me to stand?" Kotomine asked politely, an amused look on his face. "I would do so on my own, but I fear that testing your trigger finger in such a situation may not be in my best interest."

"Oh so _now_ you exhibit some kind of survival instinct." I drawled, before looking him up and down for a moment. "What for?"

"You requested proof, did you not? As the arbitrator of this conflict, it would be unseemly for me to deny a participant's request."

I was rather flabbergasted at that. "What, you actually have proof? Like what, a few pictures of us side by side, me acting cute with a peace sign while you were grimly uninterested in the background? Something like that?"

"Oh my, no. Though I would have been most interested to be in possession of a genuine article such as that." Kotomine remarked, chuckling softly to himself as he gazed at the desk. "But alas, pictures can be doctored. Letters can be counterfeited. In the kind of world that we reside in, there is only one kind of proof that would be of interest to anyone."

He turned to me. "Will you permit me to stand?"

I stared at him as he stared at me, my thoughts whirling. That Kotomine had been polite and non-confrontational throughout this entire encounter was not an indicator of trust. That man, if he could even be called that, wanting to do anything at all was something I was willing to consider as a potentially hostile action. That he had been the winner of the last war, that he'd been entrusted to conduct the Fifth, indicated a degree of capability and lethality that would go above and beyond anyone I'd met prior to this point. Without accounting for any dangers on his person, that desk of his could be holding any number of anti-Servant armaments; after all, one could not arbitrate without the ability to enforce, and the inability to enforce one's will upon a Heroic Spirit meant that one's ability to arbitrate may as well rest on the word of its participants. Judging by his conversation with his minions earlier, Kotomine was surely capable enough that all of that would not have been lost on him. It was likely that he'd somehow wired and reinforced his seat of power to hold off an assault from a Heroic Spirit if absolutely necessary, meaning that there was any level of danger residing in this place that I could not readily account for.

Which was just as, if not nearly, as problematic as any dangers on his person. Removing his leg had merely been my attempt at ensuring the priest could not escape, but the dismemberment hardly seemed to have bothered him at all. Worst yet, it revealed that something distinctly and horrifically wrong was going on with Kotomine Kirei's body. The worms and insects bleeding out of his severed limb and bleeding thigh was a nauseating sight at best, though not nearly so much as the implications it implied for the rest of his body. I could not treat him as I would a normal human being, with normal human limitations. This meant that his capabilities as a threat were completely and utterly unknown, limited only to what he would choose to show me. The defenses around his parish could be reasonably guessed at or extrapolated based on my knowledge of Heroic Spirits and the information on the Holy Grail Wars that I'd studied from the Tohsaka Manor. This...horrid body of his could be capable of anything, and basing my analysis of his strengths and weaknesses on the works of Magi may not ultimately result in much. For all I knew, he could be deriving his strength from some...obscure reading in the Bible or some such rot. There was insufficient information to come to a comfortable hypothesis, and the lack of such tied my hands severely. More information would be required.

But I was running out of time. There were too many different threats, too many potential ways that my situation could collapse, for me to be able to waste any more time here. Beyond the immediate threat of having laid a hand on the arbiter of the war, every second that ticked by made it significantly more likely that Galliasta would sit up and notice that a crater now stood where his warehouse used to be. Assuming that it really had been Lancer down there, a fact I was ninety-nine percent sure of at this point, I'd be lucky if I was operating on a time scale measured in minutes, not seconds.

My eyes flickered back to Kotomine. He seemed calm and composed, hands crossed at his lap, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Not that such an irritating display was surprising anyway; he had all the time in the world to act, while a wrong move on my end would doom me in a rather spectacular fashion.

His words had shaken me, I could admit that to myself. But I would be damned if I'd allow him any more advantage over me.

"I find it somewhat curious." He remarked, interrupting me from my reverie as he waved his hand aimlessly in the air. "In all the years that you'd been alive, surely you would have met countless individuals that you would have found personally or ethically repugnant. Functioning in the role of Chancellor, I'm sure you would have been able to minimize contact with such individuals or even neutralize them entirely, but I find it difficult to imagine that you could do so to everyone you met with all your decades of active service. Surely you would have had to compromise, to interact with those you personally disagreed with for the greater good."

I raised my brow at that. "Your point, Kotomine?"

A smile, neither ghostly nor considering now. "What makes me so unpalatable, that you would waste precious moments in reflection rather than act? The Tanya von Degurechaff I knew would not have deliberated so, though perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she would not have hesitated in this particular situation. A certain degree of thoughtfulness and consideration seems a common thread between your fractured personas, I believe."

"Well there's the fact that you're not human, that counts for a lot of it I'm sure," I responded reflexively, without really thinking. My words prompted a smile from the priest, mocking, and patronizing in equal measure.

"Oh but I am. There was once a time where I thought of myself as some inhuman monster, rotten to the core with a human facade, but I've since learned the error of my ways. I have you to thank for that, truly."

The chittering of insects drew my attention downward, where I watched with equal parts revulsion and fascination as Kotomine's leg….dissolved, for lack of a better word. The limb broke down into a mass of chitinous, snapping, creatures that dragged themselves up onto the couch, pulling the pant leg that I'd blown off as well, before connecting themselves to the rest of the priest's body. A few moments later the limb had reformed, the wrinkled flesh of his thigh visible beneath the hole in his pants, as though there'd never been an injury there at all.

"That I had anything at all to do with you makes me vomit," I said, my mind racing into overdrive. Physical threats seemed useless, at least as far as I could see. Alternative methods needed to be considered. "Is every member of the Church secretly a sentient pile of insects? It would line up with a _lot_ of my biases against your institution if they were."

He chuckled at that. "Oh no, my own situation is a case unique to me. It is a rather hellish existence if I do say so myself, not one I would recommend to the wet eared novices being churned out for public service, but it is nonetheless a useful tool. At the very least, it has been useful enough to save me the use of my leg."

Kotomine stood, and something about the way he raised himself to his feet gave me the impression that he was weaker now, more decrepit than he'd been before. Maybe cutting off his leg _had_ done something after all. "May I?"

Without a word, I stood aside, prompting a slight bow of appreciation from the priest. The rifles and other weapons around him disappeared, slowly dissolving into cerulean light that briefly illuminated the space around us, before casting us into darkness once more. The desk was a lonely little thing, set upon the wall and notably separate from the rest of the room's furnishings, torches and candlelight barely lending any illumination to the scene. Nonetheless, the shadows did not seem to bother the priest in any meaningful way, hands reaching out to work upon the wood, fingers tracking invisible lines upon the grain with practiced familiarity.

I crossed my arms, gaze steadily on Kotomine's back. "So? What is this proof you have for me, exactly?"

"When the plans for the Fourth Holy Grail War was conducted." Kotomine began. "The Holy Church was most concerned about the potential fallout that yet another war between Magi would result in. Trends noted from the aftermath of the Third War indicated that with the growing desperation of the Magi to secure the Holy Grail and the continuing march of technological development, subsequent Grail Wars would likely escalate in both total death count and overall destruction. In such a scenario, it would only be a matter of time until the ritual was discovered, more so with the rise of those 'tamed' magi more known to the public. While significantly more limited than their moonlit counterparts, it was deliberated that to allow their potential interference into the ritual was unacceptable in the extreme. They concluded that something had to be done."

"And so, the Holy Church and the Tohsaka Clan came to an arrangement to coordinate between themselves in the Fourth War. So that the war might finally cease and secrecy maintained, so that a family integral to the ritual be neutralized so as to no longer desire the War, it was decided that the Holy Grail would fall into the hands of the clan patriarch, Tohsaka Tokiomi, once and for all. The Church was assured that his wish would, in all likelihood, result in minimal destabilizing effects compared to the Einzbern or Matou claiming it instead."

I absorbed that for a moment. The information and books regarding the war that Tohsaka Rin had given me corroborated that statement to a degree. That the Wars were getting more and more violent was an easily noticed trend, and if I were in charge of the group tasked with overseeing it, I could easily see this path being the most straightforward means to neutralize the war in the quickest and safest way possible. The Holy Grail War was a distinctly unpredictable sort of conflict, the width, and breadth of Heroic Servants capable of being summoned to the battlefield meaning that there was no real way to properly police the entire engagement. If the best way was to simply have someone win properly for once, and ensure that the situation could no longer escalate, then I would have done it in a heartbeat.

Nonetheless, there were a few questions that statement brought up, not all of which I could direct towards Kotomine for the moment. "Considering that we're on the Fifth War right now, I'm guessing that plan didn't really work out."

"Hah. I suppose you could say that." The priest remarked and even with his back to me, I could nearly see the smile in his voice. "The Grail was destroyed in the last war before it could be claimed and so it was that neither Tohsaka Tokiomi nor Kotomine Risei's plans would ever come to fruition."

"...that is to say, it was destroyed before _you_ could claim it?"

There was the snap of a wooden drawer, the seals placed upon the wooden desk breaking. Kotomine seemed to stare down, his outline in shadow and his visage obstructed from view. Precious moments passed before he spoke again.

"Yes, before I could claim it."

His voice seemed distant and thoughtful, almost wistful in a way before he turned aside and faced me once more. In his hands lay a bundle of cloth held protectively between his hands. Kotomine's steps were slow, as though he was under some great, unknowable, weight, and before I knew it he stood before me. He reached out, withered hands drawing weathered silk aside, revealing the item inside.

Visually speaking, it was nothing impressive. A cylinder of dark steel, dulled away by the elements until the outermost layer of it became pockmarked with dents and scratches and other such imperfections. Experience indicated that it seemed to have been a barrel at some point, before erosion and the elements had rendered it nearly unidentifiable. The metal at the tip of the barrel had undergone the most damage, so melted and warped by some thermal reaction of such severity that the barrel had lost its cohesion and cracked into pieces. Those very same pieces lay beside the barrel itself, such that if they were pieced together, they would probably be around the length of my ring finger.

But beyond the physical, beyond the rational and the mundane, was a more visceral reaction. There was a sense of bloodlust in this thing, an aura of murder and violence so profound that I found myself taking a step backward. Absentmindedly, I was reminded of Lancer's spear; of a weapon so wrong and twisted that its rebellion against the very nature of the world seemed almost like a physical weight upon the soul. It was not quite the same as his weapon, of course, the sheer difference between Cu Chulainn's Gae Bolg and this half-forgotten instrument of violence was massive indeed. Yet despite that, I couldn't help but feel a certain degree of...wrongness, of apostasy unbound, that it rendered the thing unique by its very presence.

I stared at the barrel, _my_ barrel, entranced, even as I barely registered the priest's words.

"The Holy Church and the Magus Association did not stand idly by in the Great War," Kotomine remarked in relish, seemingly appreciating what reaction he could glean from me. "Strongholds were shattered, cities sacked, artifacts of immense value spilling forth from their tombs by a marauding populace too ignorant of the secrets they had stolen. The vast majority of their efforts during those years was to ensure that knowledge of the esoteric, of magic, did not escape into the popular consciousness."

"But that was not _all_ they did. Others recognized that in times of war and conflict such as these were when Heroes were born and made. The Holy Church had been aware of you, of the Devil of the Rhine, for some time. It was hard not to, considering the things that you'd done during the war after all, and some had taken it upon themselves to visit the aftermath of your battlefields, in search of artifacts that you may have left behind. Fruitless endeavors, you were not one to be so sloppy as to leave anything of yours behind in a battlefield, at least anything that could serve as a potent catalyst in any case."

Kotomine continued, evidently relishing this. "Except for one instance, of course. When you'd battled against a mage of equal might, when you'd struck down a mountain with such strength as to carve your name into the Throne of Heroes, a battle that had ravaged you and obliterated your rival and broken your favored implement against her very soul. _That_ was a prize worth keeping, a prize that took decades for the Holy Church to unearth, and the prize that was entrusted to me so as to put an end to the Holy Grail War."

The priest covered the barrel once more, shrouding it within that same cloth, and I found myself jerking my gaze away from the barrel and unto his face. He was smiling, of course, a self-assured, self-satisfied, expression. I sighed, a deep, tension-filled, breath coming out of me in something of a shudder.

A rifle manifested above and to the side of Kotomine's head, a burst of cerulean energy the only indication of its appearance to the world. A moment later, before the weapon had even fully manifested itself, the weapon discharged, the magical round fully intent on ripping Kotomine's head wide open.

Except it didn't. Possessed of a speed and ferocity I'd not seen from the priest before, he twisted his head away from the blast at the last moment with harrowing, unnatural, speed. The round grazed his temple, spitting a sickly green goo unto the walls as Kotomine's hand grabbed the barrel of the rifle in one hand and, with the other still clutching unto my catalyst, raced his fist upwards to break the weapon in half.

It was utterly, completely, inhuman. The sort of thing that would have been improbable to pull off with a computation device and utterly impossible to achieve without one, yet Kotomine had pulled it off with seemingly little effort. The affectation of a helpless old man was gone now, replaced with the calm focus of a man I could imagine having been trusted with ending this war ten years ago. He held that pose for a moment, his attention seemingly casting out for any further surprises on my end, before his gaze met mine.

"Was that really necessary?" Kotomine asked, obvious humor in his tone as he slowly relaxed. I scoffed.

"So you _were_ holding out on me, with that wretched old man act you've got going on." I scoffed, as I collapsed unto his seat. _This_ one, I noted with some irritation, was actually comfortable to sit on. "I'd apologize for that, if an apology meant anything to you anyway. I just had a distinct impulse of wanting to wipe that ugly smirk off your face and I just couldn't help myself."

Kotomine blinked, before the smile on his face grew satisfied at my words. The wound on his forehead closing as insects churned and skurried beneath the skin until his face was pristine once more, for a given level of pristine what with being an old man anyway. The stance of a practiced martial artist dissipated into thin air until all that remained was a wretched old man. "How very nostalgic. Perhaps random acts of violence is another similarity that two versions of you had? If so, then I must give my compliments to Galliasta after all. I'm surprised he'd survived your first interaction, nevermind this many days into the war."

I snorted. "For all that you're some careful mastermind for this war, you're just….remarkably reckless, aren't you? Then again, what with your little pests, I'm starting to have doubts about whether you can ever really die. I imagine that even if I hit you with some kind of bomb or explosion you'd just reform out of the muck like some cheap B-Movie monster."

"Certainly, others have died trying." He shrugged, as indifferent to the topic as he had been when his leg had first been blown off. "In those times they've treated me as a monster, trying to obliterate my head or carve out my heart, to very little effect. You're certainly free to replicate their efforts if you wish."

Despite myself, I chortled briefly at that. "Well, wouldn't that be something? At least I can comfort myself with the fact that someone's tried to kill you, even if they were evidently extremely bad at their job."

This, for whatever reason, seemed to amuse the priest even further. "You truly do say the kindest things, Chancellor."

I said nothing to that, merely leaning back upon Kotomine's seat. The priest hummed with disapproval at that, but I honestly couldn't give a damn as to what my, apparently, former Master thought.

This was a mess. A big, terrible, mess, and I had no idea how to clean it up. That I was here, or rather, that I'd _been_ here in my function as the Devil of the Rhine was the kind of curveball I really didn't need right now. It opened all sorts of uncomfortable questions, both personally and in the context of the war, at the worst possible time it could have occurred.

If I'd won, or at the very least that Kotomine and I had been left as the last one standing, then that meant I'd interacted with every major player of the Fourth War in some way or another. That would, at the very minimum, mean the Three Families of the Einzbern, Tohsaka, and Matou which would thus put all my prior conversations with their current Masters in a new light. Did Rin truly have no information regarding the Fourth War, or did she simply pin the absent journals on Kotomine so as not to reveal what I'd done to her family? Was Matou's aggravation towards Rin and myself _solely_ because of her beef with the Tohsaka, or was it because I'd somehow been responsible for the Matou's defeat in the last war, precipitating a resentment towards my current form? Why did Einzbern copy my dress and looks, when I'd been the one to-

Vividly, my mind leaped back to that conversation with Rider. To his conversation, his report under duress, of what had occurred in the Fourth War. Of a Berserker that had run amok, of a Saber that had killed the Tohsaka Master, of an Archer that had butchered the Einzbern Master. My mind raced at the potential complications from any and all of that, how it could have possibly occurred if I was responsible.

Absentmindedly, I noted also that since Rider too had been summoned in the last war, that he'd likely have fought me before as well, under the leadership of Waver Velvet. The possibility of not having engaged Rider, of not engaging Alexander the Great, was so small as to not even be worth considering. In which case, it seemed only reasonable that Rider would have some degree of information from Waver Velvet on how I fight. With such an advantage, Rider should have beaten me with minimal difficulty, nevermind _losing_ against me. So what happened there? What was I missing?

I could feel my head bursting from an oncoming migraine, and I groaned as I placed both hands on my head. Kotomine's chuckle at the wretched sight of me did my bad mood no favors.

"So, to clarify." I groaned out. "I was the Archer in the Fourth War, wasn't I?"

"Hmm, how curious," Kotomine remarked, seemingly willing to milk my suffering for all it was worth. "You were so adamant about referring to her as another person, why the change now?"

"Just answer the damn question."

He chuckled again, my pain and frustration apparently having been suitable payment for the information. "You were the Archer, yes. You had appeared in the guise of an aerial mage of the Germanian Empire, with the uniform to match. If not for your murderous streak, I imagine you would have been rather adorable."

"Just because you can't die right now, doesn't mean I _can't_ find a way to kill you, you know."

"And I await that moment with bated breath," Kotomine remarked solemnly, which resulted in nothing but a pained groan from me.

"Why bother telling me all this," I complained. "I can't have been _that_ much of a positive influence on you, not if you'd turned out to be such a prick."

"Did I not tell you? It was because you had to _know_ , Chancellor."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I snapped. For a moment, Kotomine said nothing, seemingly in thought, before finally speaking up once more.

"When the plan between my Father and Tohsaka Tokiomi was set to motion, you were not the first choice as my Servant." The priest began, his voice thoughtful. "The Holy Church is not bereft of choices on what Heroic Spirits could be brought to bear. With even a moderate degree of access to the city of Yerushalayim, I would have been able to summon dozens of Servants more suited to the task set before us. It was only days before the summoning was to commence, when Kotomine Risei decide to avoid the conventional option, and instead choose to utilize your legend."

A chuckle of disdain. "I'd thought it foolish at the time. You had not been dead for even half a year at this point, why risk such an untested Heroic Spirit on so integral a task? But my Father had been adamant, and Tohsaka Tokiomi trusted my Father, and so you were summoned instead of Hassan-i-Sabbah. I believed that my Father intended for me to summon something as you are now, as that peaceful collaborator, so as to minimize the devastation that the Fourth War could bring. But even with a catalyst, the Holy Grail would fulfill its function, and seek to pair a Master with a Servant most in tune with their Master's nature. So it was that the Devil of the Rhine came to me, instead of the Silver Chancellor."

There was a glint of humor on his face, of a savage sort of pleasure masked by only the barest hints of civility. "I do not think I'd ever seen him more disappointed."

"So….what?" I asked, confused. "Now that I'm here, you were curious as to why your father wanted you to summon me?"

"Oh no, not quite." Kotomine chuckled, hands clasped behind his back. "I have grown far past what my Father had intended for me, for better or for worse. That Galliasta had summoned you here is good, very good, and allows for me an opportunity I thought long denied to me. Yet that opportunity could not exist without you truly recognizing the conflict within your soul, for you to recognize the limitation inherent to your form."

I didn't say anything this time and Kotomine sighed in disappointment. "Ah well. For my purposes, you need not understand everything, only enough for you to comprehend yourself. In fact, I suppose that if you understood my meaning completely, that would defeat the point of this entire exercise. Your self-delusions, your blindness to the reality of your inner soul, would make such a thing difficult of course, but as long as you are aware of your limitation and that your other self had been summoned….that should be enough, I think."

The condescension, the dismissal, irked me severely and I gritted my teeth. "I am not a tool for you to use for your own curiosities, Kotomine."

"Wrong," Kotomine remarked. "As a Heroic Spirit, you will always be a tool, whether to the whims of those magi that fancy a desire to command the legendary Tanya von Degurechaff herself or by the commandments of the World to maintain Mankind itself. Your actions, your fame, your legend in life; they have enslaved you so firmly and so thoroughly that there is no longer any possibility of escape for you. You had merely been entrapped by a system you had no way of knowing, your life merely a prelude to an eternity of servitude."

The priest's smile grew mocking, amusement evident in every pore. "I wonder, did your so-called Being X greet you as you died? Did it mock you? Did it jeer? That must have been painful indeed, to have lived your life fearful of Its interference till the very end, only for you to realize you'd been duped from the very beginning-"

Sparks of cerulean energy spiked between the two of us, bayonets manifesting around Kotomine as sharpened knives pressed against his vitals, or at least what _would_ be the vitals of a regular man. They dug deep into his skin, ichor bleeding upon contact with my blades as I stand from my seat, floating upwards until I could look at him eye to eye. The priest blinked at the sudden encirclement, before that same, irritating, smirk graced his face yet again.

"Ah. Hit too close to the mark, then?"

"How do you know that name," I growled. "I'd asked you before, when we first met, whether you'd ever met something like that. Something pretending to be divine, something that _spoke_ to you. Were you lying then?"

"I was quite surprised when you just….came out and asked, you know." The priest sighed aloud, as though lost in memories. "Quite peculiar. Back then, you'd assumed that even the most circuitous of conversations or events were in some way or form orchestrated by It. You'd simply assumed that I was a puppet to this nemesis of yours at the time; the fact that you even bothered to ask me was _remarkable-"_

One of my knives swept forward, stabbing through his neck and severing his spine. It did nothing, of course, Kotomine was no longer human, if he ever had been in the first place, and all such a thing even accomplished was to severe his head from his body. The priest's body fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and I spared the thing a moment's glance before staring into Kotomine's eyes.

He was still smiling.

"So _wrathful_." He chuckled, his voice taking a buzzing, insectile, tone. It originated from his head and his body both, and I noted with distaste that the mass of flesh below me had almost immediately begun to transform into a mass of insects. "So _impatient_. For you to have changed so much, yet to still be bound to such hate, such obsessions. Does that mean that the core of you never truly changed? Or that when one is pushed beyond the brink of comfort and reason, they revert to their most base, savage, form?"

"Do you think that just because you can't die, that means I can't make you _scream_ somehow? You wouldn't be the first person I'd tortured, though you'll have to forgive me for any _amateurish_ mistakes, I haven't really had practice since-"

"-the western front, during the destruction of Arene." Kotomine finished, plucking the thought from my mind with nary a moment's effort. He frowned in thought. "Alternatively, you'd say something about the Afrikan Campaign, though that would be significantly less frequent. Not that you were particularly inclined to torture. You were of the belief that the application of pain to a target so as to retrieve information was a decidedly inefficient approach, considering that the victim would say all that they can to avoid the pain."

This time, I couldn't keep the shock from escaping my face, which simply prompted the priest into giving me a pleased smile. Insects swarmed beneath us, wings and chittering turning his speech even more inhumane. "It was a favored tactic of yours, to be used when intimidating a target for sensitive information. You'd concluded that operating from the shadows was impossible due to your fame, that to rely on your own native reputation was meaningless if they perceived you as some motherly, loving, figure. Instead, you sought to intimidate and terrorize, and did a _remarkably_ thorough job at that."

How much did he know? How much did he _know?_ The things he was saying, the information he was privy to, there shouldn't be anyone else on earth besides me that would have even an inkling of it. So how was it that he knew any of it? Of the things I was thinking, of the thoughts my Archer self had considered, of Being X?

It should be impossible that he would know so much, but the fact he did was unmistakable. Did that mean he was connected to Being X somehow, serving as Its puppet here to test and torture me again? Or did that mean my other self had developed a breakthrough, had trusted Kotomine enough to entrust him with that information, that she'd somehow succeeded in learning more of Being X's nature than I have?

The thought rankled at me, scratched at my insides until I was bloated and bleeding. I could feel my teeth crack while staring at Kotomine, his disembodied head watching me serenely, a look of utter contentment on his face.

"Whoever it was that blew up your head? Carved out your heart?" I growled, barely suppressing the desire to reenact the event with the priest here and now. "I _envy_ that they had the opportunity to do that before you turned yourself into a cockroach colony. Blowing up insects just….doesn't have the same level of satisfaction that cracking open your ribcage would have given me."

Silence at that, the same serene look on his face, before I sighed. What a fearsome man, to be expected of the winner of the Fourth War, to be capable of disarming a Servant from words alone. Just my luck that he was more insect than man now, I wonder how my Archer self would have handled the situation.

That sudden thought sent a shiver of revulsion up my spine, and I shook it away. I already knew that physical violence wouldn't work on him, that such threats were ultimately meaningless. It was clear now that Kotomine had information I needed, information that my Archer self had possessed at least. Failing that, Kotomine would doubtlessly possess information on what my Archer self had done, valuable intel that could help clarify certain things about the war. I could not afford to alienate him, no matter how good cutting him apart may or may not feel.

But more than that…..more than that, he was right. I'd not been taking this war as seriously I could have, should have, been doing. I was treating these children with kids gloves, not recognizing that, for some of them, they'd been born and bred precisely for this moment. Precisely for this war. I couldn't afford to be complacent around those children anymore, not with Galliasta's actions revealed to the world, not when my collaboration with him could be revealed and damn me by association.

To do any of that though, I had to deal with Galliasta. Regardless of how 'soft' I'd become, that man was a weakness I could no longer tolerate.

I sighed once more, closing my eyes and counting for ten seconds. Once the countdown was over, I opened my eyes, revealing Kotomine's curious face looking back at me.

"I apologize for my outburst." I began, bowing my head slightly. "You've been….helpful, in illuminating certain things that I hadn't noticed, and I repaid that with brutish, unworthy, attacks on your person. I apologize for that and hope that the damage I'd done had not severely injured you in any way."

There was silence on Kotomine's part, a silence that I chose not to break as I held my position for as long as it was necessary. The silence held for a while until the priest's voice broke the stillness.

"How remarkable." He muttered to himself, quietly, seemingly distracted. I looked up from my position, only to note that the priest's head had disappeared; a few stray insects falling from the blade that had beheaded him indicating that the man had simply chosen to dissolve into the mass of insects. "It is a novel thing, to be apologized to, especially from you."

I snorted at that. Not too surprising, I suppose. I couldn't imagine my Archer self apologizing for anything, nevermind something she'd done. Before I could say anything else, Kotomine spoke again, his voice echoing across the room.

"Three minutes ago, dark tinted vehicles with unmarked license plates left multiple properties belonging to Atrum Galliasta's many shell companies. While a portion of those vehicles is currently en route to Fuyuki Pier, a much larger number seem to be making their way to Kotomine Parish."

The report sent a splash of ice into my system, and the myriad collection of weapons hanging around me proceeded to disappear. I took a moment to breathe, the jumble of thoughts and unhelpful impulses from Kotomine's declaration stilling into nothing before I exhaled and opened my eyes.

"You're not playing a practical joke on me now, are you Kotomine?" I said, smiling thinly as I did. "I understand that I was a bit rude, but the proper thing to do would have been to play the joke on me and _then_ accept the apology, that's how these things work, I think."

"I do not lie, Chancellor." The priest remarked calmly, which prompted a curse from me. "I _did_ say it was only a matter of time until Galliasta would make his move."

"And you _also_ said that you were a neutral arbiter of this war, and yet here you are, informing me-"

"Informing a Servant of their Master's movements, a remarkably innocent report as far as what an arbiter should be capable of," Kotomine said, and I couldn't help but imagine the old bastard gracing me with a judging eyebrow. "It is good that we are ending the conversation now; if either of us had taken a moment longer, I would question whether either of us would be able to do _anything_ in regards to our unexpected guests."

I grimaced at that. I didn't have time to parse through that statement, to consider whether or not that meant the arbiter of the war was collaborating with me. Instead, I said nothing, racing from the room as quickly as I could. Kotomine had no words for me as I left, the only response to my departure the buzzing and chittering of insects as I eschewed the stairs and floated upwards with what speed I could muster. The door creaked shut behind me, before the lights through that tunnel were snuffed out, casting it all to the darkness.


	37. 4.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Something of a shorter chapter this time. Elements originally intended for this chapter had been moved to subsequent chapters for the sake of better pacing.

4.6

I couldn't presume anything, whether by the disposition of the incoming enemy forces or the direction of their approach. Galliasta had given me a fairly comprehensive look at the number of security forces he'd hired, a substantial number to be fair, but I was certain that it wasn't everything he actually had access to. Considering that the kidnappings had been going on for the past few weeks; there was likely a dedicated task force set upon the objective of taking children for the man. I've seen enough of my Master's more visible forces that the odds of a hidden group were far more likely than him just fabricating the roles and schedules of every other one of his security forces. Between those serving in public roles during the daytime, those that served under me directly while achieving the other, more mundane, objectives that Galliasta would have- well, there just weren't enough hours in the day, quite frankly.

Contact with the mercenaries at the docks had further confirmed this. While Einzbern's information on 'mage kidnappers' allowed me to presume them to be Galliasta's men, actual interaction with them gave me confirmation of that fact. They might not have borne the marks and symbols of any of the security groups I was familiar with, but that didn't really mean much in the end anyway. I've seen six out of the seven Masters in this war, and the operational sophistication, and utilization of Mage resources, all matched Galliasta's Modus Operandi.

The identity of the mercenary organization did give me pause though. While I had at least a passing knowledge of the multiple mercenary organizations active throughout the world at around the time of my demise, this group seemed fairly new, or at the very least amateurish enough at the time of my death that I hadn't paid much attention to them while I was still alive. Not that it's particularly important anyway, for all I know it could simply be an organization that Galliasta had formed explicitly for the purpose of waging this war and nothing more. The fact that a majority of the mercenaries that served at the warehouse belonged to this new group suggested that they likely served as Galliasta's preferred hatchetmen.

Considering that, and assuming that Kotomine was telling the truth, any mercenaries on their way to the church would likely belong to this unknown group of mercs. However, if that were the case, then that opened up certain uncomfortable questions.

How much did Galliasta know? Lancer was at the docks facing off Ilya's Berserker, but the outcome of that situation was rather less clear. If Lancer succeeded, then surely he would have reported that a Servant was responsible for assaulting the docks, which made my Master's decision to send his forces off to secure the children a grave mistake. Sending mortal men against a Servant was suicide; if Galliasta had activated these mercenaries, either he was unaware of any Servants being responsible for the situation at the docks, in which case Lancer had either died or failed to report such to my Master, or Lancer had managed to kill Berserker, leading to the belief that the children were relatively undefended.

More to the point, why wasn't he contacting me? It was one thing to believe that I would be morally repulsed at the very idea of everything that was going on, but moving these many assets was bound to trigger my attention. Did he expect me to call him first? Or was that a trap? What was the last thing he knew of my situation? Did he know I was meeting with Tohsaka? Did he know of my fight with Rider? Why was he sending his troops in such force against the Church? Surely he knew that such an act was bound to get him alienated at best and crucified at worst, metaphorically or otherwise.

Too many questions, not enough answers. It made overt action difficult, insufficient information meant that the ability to commit to a guaranteed result was remarkably low. Not at all an ideal situation; add to the fact that hesitating would only cost me more time and limit my ability to act? In such a situation, calling my list of options rather short was an understatement at best.

The tunnels grew less and less claustrophobic as I rose from the depths, leaving Kotomine's dungeon behind. I was glad to be rid of it; for all that the man seemingly did not intend to physically harm me, and for all his claims to the contrary, I doubted very much that he was on my side. In actuality, I was certain that the only thing that man would side with was himself. He may pose himself as a man of God, but beyond the technicalities of whether or not he could even be considered a man still, he still seemed perfectly content in the execution and management of the more morally questionable aspects of this war. After all, in that entire tirade against me, he'd never even put up that much of a stink regarding the kidnapped children. If anything, he merely used their existence as a means to contrast it with the behavior of my 'other' self.

My mood soured at that. It was impossible to deny that the man had known me, known a version of me, for some time. If his disconcertingly accurate summaries of what I could have done weren't evidence enough of that, then his mention of Being X certainly was. I'd never breathed a word of that bastard's existence in life _or_ death, and absent some enterprising necromancer getting to my body and somehow getting the truth out of me with less than natural methods, I couldn't imagine how anyone else could possibly know. That, just as much as his description of my other self's action in the Fourth War, was the final nail in the coffin regarding my other self's action in the last war.

The thought had disturbed me greatly, to the point that I'd acted out in a….somewhat less than rational way at the time. I wasn't proud of it, I'll admit; If not for the fact that the 'man of god' wasn't quite a man anymore, I fear that I would have killed him on the spot. I couldn't quite imagine what I would have done had he been made of flesh and blood, and not chitin and carapace instead.

Well, that wasn't quite true. I knew what my _other_ self would have done in such a situation. If _she'd_ accidentally killed the Overseer of this war, she'd have reckoned that it was only a matter of time until the Holy Church was now a potential enemy. As such, she probably would have wiped out the Church rather than let evidence of her crime be known and be capitalized on by her enemies. It wouldn't be particularly hard, all things considered, she'd have probably enjoyed it even, which left a rather disconcerting feeling in my gut that I tried not to think about too much.

But regardless of my own personal feelings on the matter, the existence of my other self in the Fourth War raised too many questions to feasibly answer on my own. If what Kotomine said was true and I'd served under him in some capacity, and that we'd nearly won at that, the consequences of such a near victory should have been readily apparent to any subsequent combatant. As far as I understand it, no one else had gone as close to winning the war as Kotomine Kirei had, surely the Three Families at the very least would have learned something from that war.

Except that wasn't quite the case was it? Rin, if she could be believed, knew very little about the war itself. Considering that her family and the Church had coordinated in the previous war, it wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility that the lack of information regarding the Fourth in the Tohsaka libraries was due to Kotomine wiping such records. Matou seemed more interested in the Tohsaka than anything regarding me, at least considering the brief time I knew her, while Einzbern herself…..

Unbidden, a memory came to me. Of how that girl that had dressed exactly like me, ambushing me at a distant little cafe not too long ago with a skip in her step and a dangerously manic sort of energy in her eyes.

" _I gotta say though, you're not at all what I expected you'd be Chancellor Degurechaff."_

I growled to myself. This was irritating. The level of information I had no access to was absolutely obscene, a failure on my part that I'd have to rectify in short order. As soon as I got out of this mess anyway.

There was a brief sound above, a glimmer of candlelight peeking through into the darkness as the sullen voices of some mass of children came pouring through into the catacombs. Leading them, in that predictably irritating stance of her's so similar to Kotomine, was Sister Ortensia. She held a girl in one hand, a lantern in the other, as she took sight of me and paused briefly.

"I think you have the wrong door," I remarked. "The nursery is down the road, a few blocks from here. You're all rather a bit lost."

Ortensia quirked her brow at that, an amused, softly recriminating look that had me regretting my words the moment I saw her. Before I could say anything else, however, there was something like a pig's squeal echoing throughout the tunnels, followed by what appeared to be a fast-moving object flying at me with ludicrous speed.

A sliver of thought allowed me to adjust the shielding around my legs, turning it into something like a softer, malleable, net as the child impacted against my leg. The girl bounced back softly, almost but not quite falling over, as she graced me with a look of surprise. The surprise shifted to a kind of mischievous joy as she pressed my leg into a vice grip that was rather impressive, considering that the one administering it probably wasn't even in grade school yet.

"Mama Tanya!" The girl squealed once more, her hold on my leg only tightening in response. Due to her shorter distance, it was not quite like a tackle, more of a stranglehold really, and I just couldn't help but give a sight at that. My hand reached out to touch the girl's head, brushing away dark locks to the girl's apparent joy, before I turned back to look at the nun. Behind her were a gaggle of children, all apparently somewhat frightened, though that fear seemed to dissipate as they entered the dark of the corridor for some reason.

"I suppose that the talk with my Father couldn't have gone _that_ badly," Ortensia remarked as another one of the rugrats left her side to reach mine, squealing and jumping as the young were apt to do. "I'll admit that I feared the worst. Kotomine Kirei is not particularly well known to be pleasant company, even in the halls of the Lateran."

"Oh, wonderful." I grimaced, as my hands tried to pry off one of the children clutching onto me with particular fervor. "I was wondering if that man combusted into flames in the presence of a real priest, glad to see that his moral repugnance is such that not even the Holy See could banish him forever."

A quiver of amusement through her lips now, which only heightened my irritation. "That bad?"

My eyes glanced over to the children briefly, before going back to the nun. "If he wasn't _quite_ so different from you or me, he wouldn't be with us right now."

Ortensia nodded at that, a degree of understanding that made my skin crawl. "Not all that different from when Shirou and Father talked for the first time then. That was a rather entertaining sequence-"

"As much as I'd _love_ to spend another moment here, underground, with you and your monster of a Father," I ground out, which seemed only to bring another degree of amusement to Ortensia's eyes. "I really must get going. War going on and all that, hmm?"

From below me, one of the children mewled. Something about me going or not, which I couldn't particularly pay much attention to, not with things moving so quickly. My hand reached out to her as I murmured a few meaningless platitudes, which seemed to calm the child down enough. Ortensia eyed me for a few moments, before eventually nodding.

"Fair enough." Her gaze went over to the children once more, a soft smile on her face that seemed almost at odds with what I knew the girl to truly be. "Very well. It's time for us to go now, you wouldn't want Miss Tanya to be late for her work, now do you?"

The answer to _that_ question was a load of mewling and the unabashed frustration that only those not quite yet capable of crossing a street on their own could accomplish. Nonetheless, a flicker of curiosity was sparked, and I couldn't help but frown at the nun. "What _is_ all this anyway? A dark, underground, cavern with _him_ as company isn't exactly something I'd inflict upon the children."

This, more than anything else, seemed to amuse Ortensia greatly, the smile on her lips actually reaching her eyes for once. "The children are scared and confused. They need time to rest and recover before we hand them over to the proper authorities, lest they suffer any lasting psychological damage. Rather fortuitous timing, considering that unexpected guests might be arriving before the children would be ready."

I blinked at that. "Oh?"

The nun nodded, a more solemn look on her face as she looked over to the children by my legs. I broke eye contact with her as well, looking over to find one child that seemed concerned with burying her face into my leg. "Indeed. It's better this way than the alternative."

Almost immediately, the nun seemed to recognize that she'd made a mistake, a grimace forming on her face. The children didn't seem to recognize anything amiss, seemingly more energetic and such for the moment, so I decided not to unduly alarm them. I went on one knee, my hand reaching out to slowly loosen the grip of the first girl, which she accepted rather ruefully.

"I do expect these children taken cared of, you know," I remarked lightly. "In a real, conventional, sense of 'taken cared of' and not any sort of euphemism. If these children get hurt under the Church's care, then the Grail War would be the least of your concerns. Understand?"

Rather than intimidate her in any meaningful way, Ortensia simply gave a small, genuine, smile. "I'll watch over them with my life, Kaiserin. Have no worry about that."

I sneered at such a canned response, shaking my head with as much derision as I could get away with when cuddled up to half a dozen children, before moving on. I brushed past Ortensia, the narrow confines of the corridor making it that such a thing was rather tighter than it had to be, but soon enough I'd left that dark labyrinth behind and found myself in the parish proper.

Contrary to the scene I'd left earlier, the Church was drastically quieter, considering that the children and their minders were vacating it in droves now. I could no longer hear any noise from the outside, the somber atmosphere from the pews perhaps the only part of this entire parish that made me feel as though I was in a 'proper' house of God. Not that such a thing was ever a source of comfort for me, mortal or otherwise, so I found myself picking up the pace accordingly.

A bit by the entrance, eyes set glumly upon flickering candlelight, was Emiya Shirou himself. He seemed in an uncharacteristically somber mood, eyes bereft of the intensity in which I'd seen it last. By his side was the boy's Servant, watching over him with all the stern severity of an ancient patrician. I made a beeline towards the pair, which prompted a sudden glance from Saber, a searing, hateful, look, that I studiously ignored.

"Emiya." I began, which seemed to rouse him from his stupor. He moved away from the candlelight, which upon closer inspection seemed to be an altar of some sort, before gracing me with a stiff smile.

"Good evening, Caster."

"Is there a reason you're gormlessly watching a candle flicker to nothing while your contemporaries get to work with the kids?" I noted with amusement. "Pyromania is one of those notable warning signs you know. 'If your kids develop these symptoms, they _may_ be a psychopath!' or some such drivel."

Emiya gave a polite smile at that, still somewhat strained, which allowed me to consider him more closely. He seemed…..not tired exactly. Tired implied an absence of energy, which had never been something I'd consider part and parcel of the boy's personality. Instead, it seemed more as though the boy had too _much_ energy. A restless sort of anxiety suffusing through his body, an agitated mutt with nowhere to go.

"I-I'm just taking a moment to rest before I go off." Emiya lied unconvincingly, the desperation and sheer need in his voice too evident to allow him to dissemble properly, the emotions too raw to be convincingly faked by an amateur. He smiled. "I'd been instructed to return home and stand by for further instruction. Sister Ortensia's orders, you know."

I hummed in thought to that, considering. Before I could say, however, Saber butted in, her imperious gaze visible through her cracked visor. "Whatever game you intend to play with my Master, you would do well to walk away. It is clear that he requires his rest."

I smiled at that, hands raised. "Oh dear no. After our little quarrel, I've got no desire at all to pick a fight with you. I owe your Master a lot, after all, if not for him, I'd most likely be terribly injured by now."

With you dead, came the unspoken thought, yet Saber seemed to hear it regardless. Her eye grew only more suspicious, her good hand tightening into a fist as she nearly spat out her next words. "Then why are you here? Your presence soils the air itself with your sin."

I gave my best carefree smile, which seemed only to deepen her paranoia. I turned to Emiya who was now looking at me with something approaching interest.

"To fulfill my promise, after all." I shrugged. "You were so courteous as to stop Saber and I from tearing each other apart, it seems only fair enough to reward you with what I know about those dastardly child kidnappers. If I'd spent a rather constructive evening destressing by murdering so many of them, it only makes sense for you to get a crack at the rest before they fuck off somewhere else."

Almost instantly, that fire erupted within Emiya's gaze. An unnatural vitality, bordering on the manic, as he picked himself up and whirled onto me, eyes unusually large and unblinking.

"Shirou…." Saber remarked in concern, which seemed to have been dismissed rather easily, judging by the complete lack of reaction from Emiya's part in any case.

"What do you know?"

I shrugged. "If what Kotomine says is true, I believe that the unexpected visitors on the way here are coming precisely for the children. I imagine that they didn't particularly like their friends dying by the pier for nothing, so they may be on their way to reclaim their prize."

"'May be on their way'?" Saber noted, eyes narrowed in suspicion. I shrugged.

"Who am I to presume knowledge into the minds of villainous scum like that? All I'm saying is that, as far as I know, is that they're on their way here for one reason or another. It's only supposition, but it makes sense considering that Ortensia had your Master sent away. Undoubtedly, she realizes Emiya's….. well-developed sense of justice would make an incendiary situation only worse."

Watching the gears turn in Emiya's head, I almost felt guilty for just how easy this all was. Saber seemed to agree, turning on me with understanding and contempt in her eyes.

"We will _not_ be your weapon in this, Caster."

"Oh dear no, I wouldn't dream of it," I said, as I began dissipating into the aether. "After all, if I _did_ know of some potential threat towards the children then it behooves me to speak. If I was in a position to do or say something to keep those children safe? Well, I'd just _have_ to act, won't I? The dire consequences of if I'd failed to act, for the unthinkable to happen, are much too grim."

" _Caster."_

" _So_ sorry, I'll need to be going now," I remarked, as I fully dissipated, my voice echoing throughout the Church as I left. "The night's young and all that, and I have things of my own to do. Take care now Emiya."

The little priest in training said nothing, eyes burning in thought as I slipped through the open doorway, my job done as far as I was concerned.

It was impossible for me to determine just how much information my Master had access to. I was fairly certain he could not, or simply chooses not to, see through my eyes. If he could have, then I would have lost my autonomy hours ago, and so I was safe in that regard at least. Despite that, it was clear by now that he had _some_ degree of reconnaissance active, though the extent of that ability just wasn't clear for the moment.

Yet at the same time, as mad as the man was, surely he wouldn't be so daft as to attack the Holy Church like this. It was political suicide of the highest order. He couldn't hide behind a cloak of anonymity by deploying so many men, not when Kotomine knew who he was. He knew that Shirou Emiya was a Master, most likely knew that he was tied to Kotomine, and that an obvious attack such as this would fail to overpower the Church in time. If he intended on a direct attack, he would have informed me so as to better coordinate it or utilized a Command Seal so as to destroy the area in conjunction with his men.

No. While the men were most likely on the way, it was likely that they would not be approaching with a thought to direct engagement in mind. If I _had_ to deploy my men in such a manner, I'd likely have them proceed in a sort of pseudo-peacekeeping role. Appear on the grounds, make a public stint that my forces were there to ensure that the children were returned to their homes as soon as possible while making private inroads that the matter, as well as any violation of the rules, would be swiftly forgotten.

A rather mild jump, as far as conclusions go, but one that was drastically more likely than an attack on the only available neutral grounds in the entire war. In addition to this, I had to take into consideration the environment in which I was given this information. Kotomine had riled me up, angered me, gotten my blood boiling to the point that I was actively trying to murder him. Yet as soon as it appeared that I was calming down from that state of perpetual rage, he redirected my attention to another problem, one that could conceivably be solved via violence, and sent me on my way with nary a second to grab my metaphorical coat.

So this would be my counter move. Emiya himself was riled and ready to go and would not likely consider a rational response when pointed against the people he would consider to have hurt those children. In all likelihood, a good number of people would die in the resulting conflict, but not everyone. Unless Saber was willing to go loud and unleash the full scope of her abilities against a group of mortal men and women, Galliasta's forces would likely withdraw or standby from a distance that Saber could not readily engage them. It would distract them, as well as my Master, thus buying me more time and flexibility to handle this shit show than if I'd challenge them myself.

And even if I was wrong about all that and Galliasta was somehow idiotic enough to pick a fight with the Church, it was still fine. Emiya would fight against my Master's hatchetmen, would likely kill more of them as the mercenaries move to neutralize Emiya over his Servant, and relations between Galliasta and the Church would be irreparably damaged. He would no longer be able to pursue political favors from that group; if he was ever stripped of his resources, if he somehow escaped my grasp, it would be one less place for him to crawl to if necessary.

For a moment, I'd considered contacting the Tresillo before making my move here, but none of that was particularly necessary. If Galliasta had decided to send his private forces to secure the children, deigning not to inform me of his movements, then it was exceedingly likely that he would not do the same to the forces that I was in direct command of. Yes, he could command them to shut up and follow his orders regardless, but it was an unnecessary risk. No amount of cannon fodder would be sufficient to tilt a battle between a Servant and mortals to any meaningful capacity and adding more to an already incendiary situation was….less than helpful.

No, if Galliasta was suspicious of me, then that suspicion would spread towards my men as well. He wouldn't want them moving to any degree, liable to complicate any interaction he'd be up to with the Church. Presuming that the information Kotomine had given me was correct, the Tresillo would most likely be bound to the Tower under heavy scrutiny. Direct communication from an outside source would be noticed, and so it was better for them to be seated right where they were.

Thus, the next step for me was obvious. With forces loyal to Galliasta outside the Tower, and forces that were at least somewhat inclined towards my side likely seated within his fortress, it was time to make my move. It was increasingly clear now that Galliasta could not be trusted, either in word or in not blowing up whatever advantage we might have for his silly little vanity project. I couldn't rely on him to not get us killed before a replacement could be found, so I'd need to neutralize him _now_. Carve out the command seals from his hand, knock him into a vegetative state, then kill him once I had a possible replacement lined up.

An elegant plan, given the circumstances anyway. It was likely the best thing I could do, given the current situation. Despite that, a sliver of doubt in the voice of that damnable priest slithered into my consciousness regardless.

' _-but to actually commit to it would be a betrayal of your very nature.'_

I couldn't help but sneer at that. What did that bastard know of me? To presume to know me from the barest sliver of interaction with a brutal, outdated, version of me. To look at my past, to judge me by the standards of _that_ version of myself. It infuriated me. It sickened me.

Yet at the same time, there were kernels of truth embedded within, wasn't there? Not in the bullshit that Kotomine tried to feed me, but in the observation between myself and the other me.

How much of Tanya von Degurechaff was I, really? How much was I truly acting like myself, acting with my reasoning clear, with my eyes open? I knew that elements of myself had been sheared off, but what did that _truly_ mean in a practical sense? Did that mean I was inclined towards certain directions, certain actions? That seemed to be the case, considering Kotomine's stories of how I was, as well as his observations of how I'd been operating. Did that mean I was blinded from alternative paths, that I could only pursue those methods that came most naturally to me? I _knew_ that there was something wrong with me, with my decisions, for a while now; yet I chose not to look at it too deeply. Why was that? Was it because I was incapable of straying from that path, that I was intended merely to carry about the role intended for me when I'd been carved out into these little matryoshka dolls? Did that mean I was incapable of change? That my will was being twisted against my will, an indoctrination vile and enduring, yet far more subtle than anything Being X had ever done to me?

It was infuriating. It was maddening. Yet at the same time, there was no way for me to verify it for sure. It could be reasoned that any plan I'd make to verify whether or not this mental conditioning was active on me would be doomed to fail, as that conditioning would ensure I could not reason out a real plan to get my way out of this horrid mess.

The air was cool as I swept into the sky, my form invisible to the mortal eye. From a distance, I saw what might have been the glittering activation of multiple computation devices as they made their way to the Church, there to be met by Saber and her Master. I didn't pay it much mind.

Mental meltdowns were a privilege to those who had the time and safety to muse on such useless things. I'd have all the time in the world to think about this after I'd butchered my Master to an inch of his life. The thought put a smile on my face as I rushed out into the night sky, my gaze set upon the Tower.


	38. X. Master A

X. Master A

As far as institutions went, the in-house medical complex leaned towards some of the best she'd ever seen, which left something of a bitter taste in her mouth. The medical care was satisfactory (considering they went about things with largely mundane means) and the food was okay (the fact that the menu was largely Asiatic just couldn't be helped, she supposed) but Bazett mostly dreaded the aftermath. Atrum was not someone from which the word 'humble' could be reasonably ascribed to, and she could already imagine the man's smug assertations as to the quality of his facilities.

_'Oh, Miss McRemitz, how were our facilities? As I assured you, Doctor so-and-so was the best in the field of this-and-that, he was very expensive to procure, I assure you, but only the best for my esteemed colleague hohohooho!'_

Bazett was aware that she wasn't being particularly objective, but the Enforcer just couldn't summon up the effort to care. She could appreciate the resources he could bring to bear, the Galliasta clan's origins in the Middle East were well documented, as was the enormity of the wealth that they'd acquired from the region prior to their flight to Germania. She could also appreciate that their head of house was ambitious and, at least initially, future-minded. Atrum's plan to utilize Medea of Colchis's capabilities in conjunction with Cu Chulainn was a good one, and it had been the reason she'd tentatively agreed to their cooperation prior to their departure from Londinium.

What she couldn't respect was the man's tenuous grip on reality. His head in the sky delusions about his own self-importance, the dismissiveness he casually employed towards the other competitors in the war. His presumption that with Bazett's hands tied into the contract they both upheld, that he could order her about like one of his drug-addled playthings. Not to mention that he hadn't even summoned Medea in the first place. For all that Atrum had prepared rather well to fight the war, had carved out his family fortune to bring all these resources to bear, the man's psychology was better suited to some faraway investor or even-handed lord than that of a fighter.

If anything he'd done since their 'alliance' was formed best epitomized that delusion, that arrogance and tenuous grip on reality, it was his decision to summon her, despite all the dangers such an act represented.

"I really would suggest a few more days of extended bed rest, Miss McRemitz." The squirrely little man to her side remarked peevishly. "That the operation went about as well as it did was already a small miracle, it would really be best to allow your body to recuperate."

"Noted and considered, doctor." Bazett remarked. She paused for a moment, frowning as she struggled for a moment with a button on her suit. The man noted the awkwardness with a hawkish sort of awareness, setting his spectacled gaze unto his patient.

"As I said prior, acclimatization of the implements may take some time-"

"It's quite alright, doctor."

"-that they're designed for practical combat applications means that it will take more effort to adapt, compared to a civilian model. Would you prefer-"

"I really wouldn't," she remarked, the urge to roll her eyes almost overpowering. "The work you've done has been quite significant, and I couldn't possibly ask you for more."

The man snorted at that, metallic digits plucking away the spectacles upon his nose, cleaning it with focused aggression. "Oh, so you say. You couldn't possibly ask me for help now when I'm most capable of giving it. But should you go and lose even more of your limbs than you've already had, that's when you need even more of my help when a little further assistance now could very well stop such a thing from ever happening."

An imperious sniff as the glasses returned to their proper place. "Or at the very least delay it substantially. Chrome and medication can't keep you alive forever, you know."

Bazett sighed. She supposed that she could appreciate the man's insistence, it seemed to stem from a genuine concern for her safety after all, but she couldn't help but feel somewhat exhausted by it all regardless. She hadn't fully recovered yet, the injuries she'd sustained were raw and very much a pain in the ass. Bazett would love nothing more than to snuggle into her covers for a week, eating ice cream and ignoring the world outside, but she really didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She'd been on her back for almost two days now, by her reckoning; lord knows what the hell's been going on outside, and she rather not trust Galliasta's carefully prepared information packets when she could just go outside and learn it all for herself.

"...I could use something for the pain." She acquiesced. "The ones you gave me are too weak. For what Galliasta would want me doing, I'm going to need something stronger."

The doctor didn't seem particularly enthused by that, shaking his head in response. He stood, moving towards a cabinet filled with an intimidatingly substantial collection of medication. "Of course you do. Take this, follow the prescription precisely. It'd be a shame that you'd die from an overdose instead of implant rejection."

The Enforcer reached out for the bottle. The pale fluorescent lights reflected dimly upon her hand, strips of metal and dull silver obscenely installed into empty crevices where flesh used to be. With a twitch, her fingers responded to her will, the bottle settling into her palm as the doctor observed her with a calculating look. Bazett met the doctor's gaze with her own, mismatched eyes staring unflinchingly at the man's steely gaze. It took a moment for her new eye to adjust, her sight irritatingly blurry for a moment before slotting back into perfect definition. Something in the man's face shifted, an emotion appearing in his visage that did nothing but rouse her anger and contempt. Pity.

"Things will get better, I promise." He remarked, his tone as close to warm as he could possibly make it, which wasn't much at all really. "Acclimatization to your new condition will come naturally. You're lucky honestly, the vast majority of limb prosthetics these days are crude things, more plastic and copper wire than anything else. These are substantially more advanced, and I suspect that you might actually come to like them in time."

She said nothing at that, a quick nod to the Doctor that the man seemed to accept easily enough. While the man might mean well, talking a fine game about these mechanical contraptions being 'advanced' or 'elegant', they were still ultimately metal grafted unto flesh. Sturdy and sensitive enough to fulfill their tasks, but not anything she's want to get used to for any long period of time. They were a necessity, the quickest way with which she could reasonably get back up to fighting form without weeks of recuperation or access to an Association aligned medical service.

Well, that wasn't exactly true either. There were two other options that had come up during her convalescence. The first suggested by Father Kotomine when Lancer had brought her to him, barely cognizant from the pain. The second when she'd awoken in Galliasta's lair, the man personally conducting a diagnosis on her while she'd been unconscious, Lancer watching silently in the shadows.

Bazett had declined both options. While mechanical contraptions were certainly unseemly, they didn't have the same sort of pollution that Kirei or Galliasta's options presented. She trusted the Priest with her life, of course, it was why she'd had Lancer bring her to him in the first place. What she didn't trust was the Matou plague her sometimes mentor had contracted; the disease in his body was not something to be propagated, and she imagined that if not for the Holy Church's protection, the Association probably would have sent someone after Kirei in an attempt to dissect the mysteries of Matou magic that only he alone seemed to bear.

Galliasta's option was easier to refuse. More primitive and crude than what Kirei could offer, it also didn't have the same sort of taboo that the Matou magic possessed. At the very least, the flesh sewn into her body would have been one hundred percent human. Despite that, Bazett would have very much preferred not to take that option. Beyond the….unpleasantness that Galliasta's magic typically accrued in lieu of payment, she'd also much rather minimize how much she owed that man.

"Thank you for your efforts, doctor." Bazett ground out eventually. A silvery hand reached into the depths of her coat, retrieving and outfitting a pair of black gloves. They fit almost naturally. "Galliasta was right when he promised excellence it seems."

He snorted at that. "If you mean to practice your flattery, try it on someone who'd buy it. Our mutual employer in fact; I'm certain he'd believe you, if for no other reason than he wouldn't stop talking about you when he sent you to me."

Bazett felt a shiver of revulsion crawl up her spine, a small frown creeping unto her lips, before the still healing burn marks disrupted any further expression with a piercing sting. Instead, the Enforcer nodded her head, proceeding out from the facility with nary a word. There were a variety of other people around the area; off duty security personnel with too much free time on their hands, a handful of what looked to be Caster's men seemingly on the verge of death as they lay in the arms of their peers. Well, not literally anyway, not if the conversation was anything to go by.

"This floor was safe, you said." One of the mercenaries snickered. "It was safe the last three times we've been here, so there's no way things would go tits up now."

"Shut up." The man in the middle groaned. "Three times that fire turned out to be a trick, why the fuck was it real now?"

"'Because you let your guard down.'" The man quipped, his tone vaguely similar to their immediate superior. "'If you won't learn to keep your guard up to something that simple, then you deserve to get blown to pieces!'"

"Real nice performance there, asshole. Wanna try that bit again, I don't think your voice is high enough. Lemme fix that real quick."

Bazett's pace quickened slightly, passing by the mercenaries as their groans and complaints faded into the background. Her body burned with the exertion, flesh still hidden between newly refreshed bandages sensitive to every bump and pressure, muscles afresh with crimson pain as she moved forward. The damage was concentrated along her right-hand side, stretching from her miraculously unmangled foot to her significantly more damaged hand, before stretching up along her neck and face.

It wasn't the worst pain she'd ever felt. Her short career as a member of the Association's Enforcers had given her plenty of opportunities to recklessly endanger her life, but it was the longest she'd gone without relief. The painkillers already in her system were minimal, just sufficient enough to keep her conscious and stable without drastically reducing combat performance. The pills she'd asked from the doctor were a stopgap measure, there just in case that the pain grew too much for her training and magic to bear. Even now, her hands itched to take them.

But she couldn't, not really. She simply didn't have the luxury, not with the war still ongoing, not while she was within Galliasta's sphere of influence, not when she was surrounded by Caster's men.

The murmuring and conversation slowly dimmed as she walked forward, submerged in her own thoughts. That was one of the many, many things she had an issue with in regards to Galliasta's handling of his Servant. The way that the man just….let Caster have her way playing tin general with his own forces. Oh, she could already hear his reasoning for it; that Tanya von Degurechaff was infinitely more experienced in waging an offensive war than he could possibly be, that it was simply more prudent for him to allow Caster to hold the reigns and bring him to victory. He'd probably remark something about how the Tohsaka had failed to learn from their mistake in the previous war, wax poetic about learning from the past, then shoo her away while he got back to his deplorable experiments. All perfectly logical, all quite sensible, if not for the thin layer of grease and grime that magically appeared with every word that spilled from the man's mouth.

Again, that thought came to mind again. Of some distant Lord in the Clock Tower. Except, in this case, Galliasta was more sniveling sycophant than Lord. The only reason he managed to gain a seat in the War in the first place was due more to his own political savvy than anything else, as well as the small fortune he'd sacrificed to ensure that no one else would successfully take his bid at the last second. He hadn't earned it, not in the same way that she had, that she'd been determined to be the best pick to send for this assignment in the first place. It offended her that he was here, portraying himself as an equal- no, as a superior, even though he probably wouldn't be able to fight his way out of a locked room.

Eventually, she slowed down, the noise from the mercenaries no longer perceptible as she found herself staring out into the distance. The city below twinkled with lights, her vantage point allowing a bird's eye view over most of the city. It was beautiful in its own way, peaceful even, though she knew that any peace that could be derived here was nothing but an illusion. It couldn't be peaceful, not with the war brewing in the dark, but it was nice to pretend nonetheless.

It had been an astoundingly shitty few days. She'd been prepared for a tough battle, to fight for one's life wasn't exactly something that she was unfamiliar with, but fighting an enemy she couldn't see or couldn't fight was an altogether different sort of experience. She'd been targeted somehow, an enemy had decided that it was in their best interest to eliminate her first, and had very nearly succeeded. That she'd come out from that alive was good, injuries notwithstanding, but even those were within acceptable parameters for an assassination attempt of that complexity. The pain was irritating but not debilitating, her active combat ability had been reduced in the short term, but that could ultimately be accounted for with tactics and tools.

No, the biggest loss she'd accrued was her hand. Or what had passed for her hand after the bloody chunks of useless meat had been scraped off anyway, a single gleaming sigil barely visible from the carnage.

Bazett's mood darkened at that. Lancer had carried her aloft, had seen the damage done to her. It was obvious enough that he didn't want her dead, not if that meant he'd go poof as well, but he would have seen the state of her arm. Each Master was designated three Command Seals to guarantee a Servant's loyalty and obedience, a fact that those very same Servants would be aware of. Bazett trusted Lancer, was nearly infatuated with him even, but she knew better to allow her feelings to blind her to the reality of this partnership. What could she really, possibly, do with only one Command Seal? Something substantial she hoped, otherwise she'd probably be butchered right after, that final leash over Lancer's behavior gone. The Heroic Spirit free to roam and do as he wills.

But no, she was being paranoid. There was no reason for Lancer to really act out like that, but the lack of control was….irritating. Frightening, really and if anything in the past few days had taught her anything, it was that she'd really much prefer being able to punch her problems to death if she had to.

"Miss McRemitz!"

She closed her eyes, inclining her head down as a shaky breath left her lips. It took a degree of self-control to reign her instincts in and not to snap at the new presence. It wouldn't exactly help her situation if she slaughtered whoever that was and painted their guts all across the floor, even if it would make her feel better. But it was an unhelpful, irrational, impulse; just the aftereffects of a body too ravaged and worn out to want to think clearly, instinct and hormones demanding something nice and easy to fight. Bazett took a few deep breaths, centering herself and considering her options, before turning around.

There were two girls there, in the same uniform, one jogging over to her excitedly while another followed at a more sedate pace. A brunette and a redhead, the latter of which seemed to have been the one to call her out in the first place. Curiously enough, the former seemed just as wary of a conversation as Bazett was for the moment, sneaking glances towards her companion with increasing degrees of concern. It took a moment to place them both, but a look at their uniforms largely narrowed down any potential allegiance that either of them may have.

"You're one of her people," Bazett remarked, looking back over personnel reports and sanitized personnel pictures. "Laverne and Morrison, if I didn't miss my guess?"

The redhead, Morrison, gave a look of astonishment that seemed almost cute. "Oh wow! I'm honored that you'd know us simple grunts, Ma'am-"

"Show some respect." the other woman sighed, elbowing her friend, which triggered an amused squawk from the woman before the brunette turned to face her. Laverne gave a sharp salute "Very sorry about that, Ma'am. We're sorry to have disturbed you, we'll be going along now-"

"I remember you two from that meeting earlier in the morning." The Enforcer noted, which drew a long-suffering look from Laverne and a grin of amusement from Morrison. "You're….Sioux's people, aren't you?"

"Indeed we are, Ma'am," Morrison affirmed, her salute significantly less sharp than Laverne's. Bazett quirked her brow at that, taking in their disheveled appearance and recalling the roughshod nature of their fellows. "I gotta say, wonderful memory you got there-"

"It's hard not to remember you lot. Not when Sioux saw fit to punish all of you after your insubordination."

It was quite something, seeing someone's eyes turn as wide as dinner plates like that, and if nothing else that made her feel better. Bazett turned away from Morrison's embarrassing display, turning her attention to Laverne herself.

Truth be told, Bazett didn't know all that much about her. She knew that Laverne was a lieutenant in the Tresillo, in charge of the squad responsible for reconnaissance and long-range observation, but that alone wasn't enough to really single her out from everyone else. She wasn't all that notable, as far as the mercenaries went.

So why was it that Isabel had, supposedly, been brought into Caster's confidences? After action reports indicated that Isabel's squad had been suddenly activated sometime last night, with an encounter that was had been heavily edited so as to appear fairly ordinary. Yet those very same reports noted that all of Sweeper Squad returned to the Tower more or less concurrently, whereas Lancer had reported that Laverne was with Caster at the Kotomine Parish. The pair had been walking amidst Saber and her Master, as well as the Tohsaka Heir.

This meant that Laverne knew about the War, or at the very least knew enough about it that eliminating her as a witness was in the cards. But despite that sensitive information, Laverne was still alive, after having been in extended combat with Caster at that. Odds were good that she was some puppet of that Servant, some tool that she was using in some capacity. Misinformation perhaps? Or was it enough to have a member among her minions that knew enough about the truth that she wouldn't have to greatly stretch her effort to keep them in line?

If things went sideways, and Bazett was inclined to believe it likely, she'd probably have to neutralize Laverne. Probably not at the top of her list, since moving against Galliasta's toy soldiers would mean that she'd probably have to move against Galliasta himself, but she seemed notable enough that she'd probably have to be a target in some way. If for no other reason than that the Devil of the Rhine considered her a useful tool.

"So uh, we gotta go now," Laverne noted meekly. "This has been great and all but-"

"Nonsense." Bazett interrupted quickly. "I'd love to have a drink with you both. You've both obviously had a rough day, drinks are on me."

Hesitation on their faces at that and Bazett's jaw tightened at that. This whole….sociable interaction horseshit just wasn't her cup of tea at the best of times, but she wasn't in the mood for subtlety. "We're both working for Galliasta, and as good as the pay is, I'm not going into a fight without trusting the people by my side. You're both working in the same outfit, I'm sure you understand that."

Laverne was suspicious still but it seemed that was the right approach after all for Morrison. Her eyes filled with an insatiable curiosity. "Oh! I didn't know you were a fighter, ma'am. I just kinda assumed that you were a consultant or something."

Bazett allowed a small smile to form at that. "You think with the injuries I have, the fact that I'm still moving around, that I'm some kind of consultant? What kind of standards do you have, exactly?"

Morrison seemed about to say something before Laverne interrupted. "We can't anyway. We just got word from Fang that something's up. We might get deployed soon, so-"

"I'll cover for you." She shrugged. "You could say that….I've subordinated Sweeper Squad for my own use if you like. Then if she comes bothering me about it, let's just say I was too indisposed to do anything about it? I can't imagine that either of you would be excited for an operation after your punishment detail."

A final push now. "If my suspicions are right, then I might know about Sioux. Or rather, I know about her work on a previous operation of her's. I'll offer you a trade; you tell me about her, and I'll tell you a bit of what I know. Sounds fair?

Judging from the sudden gleam of understanding in Laverne's eyes, that seemed to do the trick. A good thing too, as if that entire awkward mess had gone on for much longer she was liable to start pulling teeth out, and it didn't particularly matter to her who they belonged to either.

The mercenaries seemed to draw into themselves, possibly negotiating how exactly this was to be done, but Bazett wasn't particularly concerned about all that anymore. She had them by the hook, and that was enough. There was one loose thread that she had to take care of now, if for no other reason than his absence was starting to disturb her.

Turning to Laverne and Morrison, her mouth speaking blase platitudes as her mind sought out her partner, she connected psychically with her Servant.

_"Lancer."_

_"Yes, darling, What is it?"_

_"Where are you, exactly?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This particular chapter got cut in half, due to the fact that the second half of this chapter has been…...a challenge to work out. It should be ready within the next few days and should be submitted by then, so have fun with this half for now. Next week's submission will be unaffected by this brief hiccup.


	39. 4X. Masters-B

4X. Masters-B

Tohsaka Rin was not bred to be fearful; it was not in her nature, nor was it a trait that her unique choice of lifestyle had enabled particularly well. That was not to say that she was incapable of feeling emotions, or that she was deeply inhuman in some extraordinary way. In truth, the Heir of the Tohsaka was a fiery girl, with significantly more emotional 'impurity' than would, strictly speaking, be appropriate for the head of a magus family. However, such impulses were reigned in check by the constant, near-pathological, need to ensure that she would not fail to be what was expected of her. That she would not dishonor her family's legacy.

Her youth had instilled in her the importance of dignity and elegance. From the moment of her birth, she was to lead the Clan Tohsaka in all things and as such had to strive to be worthy of that responsibility. In this Peace of Pax Germania, the Families of Europe consider it all but a given that the leadership of all magi falls to them. Whether it be from the stilted, syphilitic, hand of the Clock Tower or the arrogant, irreverent, pursuit of Berun-aligned magi, there is the expectation that all others would bow and scrape the dirt in hollow subservience to Europe. They would not say so out loud, of course, such things were never outrightly spoken of in polite company, but the expectation was there regardless. In this, her father had been very clear. Lesser families may bend their heads low due to desperation or weakness, they may writhe in the dirt for the entertainment of those foreign powers or diminish themselves for the bare hope of survival. But those ways were not those of the Tohsaka, and Tohsaka Tokiomi had done his best to ensure his eldest daughter would know their family was not one that bends to the whims of lesser families. Rin had never forgotten that.

Still, despite her irritation that more than a decade's worth of training had failed to stamp it out of her, Rin was still human. It had been ten years since she'd last spoken to her father, and ten years is a long time for a little girl. Even considering the fact that the little girl in question was considered something of a genius for her age, she could not be reasonably expected to remember every minutia of information that her father had let slip through his lips. Conversations of what it meant to be a magus, understanding her place as the next in line to the Tohsaka, the theoretical application of magic, and what that truly meant for her family. The particulars were blurred, the ideas mutating to better fit the new Heir's temperament, but the fundamentals remained. One could not expect a teenage girl to be particularly adept in her function as a cold-blooded magus, especially not when the closest thing to a mentor left to her was a priest that, for all his talents, was not a very good teacher. Despite that, Tohsaka Rin managed to adapt to her new existence with admirable grace, internalizing the methodology of a magus with relative ease.

In most other situations, this training and behavioral adjustment would be extremely valuable. Rin was no naive simpleton, she knew exactly what it meant for her to enter the war, had mentally prepared herself for it as much as she was able. She accepted that her hands would likely be stained with blood, accepted that in all likelihood she would be butchered and killed should she make a mistake. In her more whimsical moments, she considered this war as something of a baptism. As proof positive of her new role in life, of the lives she'd have to snuff out, the methods and ruthlessness that would guide her for the rest of her life. Against nearly any other opponent, she likely would have adapted to the situation reasonably well.

The sound of battle was distant now, the brewing thunderstorm and echoing cough of gunfire an indication that the two Servants had very thoroughly engaged in combat by now. Matou seemed unperturbed by the blossoming violence, a serene smile on her face at odds with clashing legends doing their utmost best to kill one another. She clapped her hands together, a deceptively domestic gesture, which complimented the white blouse and pink long skirt she wore- something more similar to a domestic wife's fashion than any attempt at a combat uniform.

"Well, I'm glad those two are off to play with each other. They deserve to get the chance to let loose." Matou giggled. "Do you think Heroic Servants get bored at the Throne? Are they even conscious the entire time? Or do they just….sleep the entire time, until the World needs them or they get summoned for petty little contests like ours, Tohsaka-senpai?"

Her voice was different now than from the last time Rin had heard her speak, though that hadn't happened since they were children. Ever since her departure, Rin had only really seen the girl from afar, and even those occasions were extremely rare. For the most part, she was off abroad, studying at the Clock Tower, only spending her time in Fuyuki when her school year was over and she returned to Akitsushima to rest. Rin's memory of Matou was that she was a shy little girl, easily embarrassed yet just as easily brought to joy; an earnest girl, unsuited for the rigors of life as a magus. Yet her time in Londinium seemed to have served her well, she spoke with a confidence that hadn't been there before. A kind of amused, teasing, tone that only barely hinted to a cold, hard, center that Rin couldn't help but think would have garnered the approval of her father.

A part of her wanted to ask how her if she was doing well, if her time at the Clock Tower had been grand for her, if she'd made any friends in her years abroad. A part of her felt a distinct emptiness at the sight of her now, a curious, gaping, loss that signified a loss Rin didn't quite understand. Yet the words refused to slip out, half-formed thoughts dying in her throat, and cold, haughty, words escaped her lips instead.

"That red cape, the boyish figure….his form doesn't match, but you summoned Alexander the Great, didn't you?"

Matou blinked cutely, turning her head to the side as she took a step closer. The movement seemed more pacing predator than dainty teenager, a degree of curious violence at the tip of her fingers that triggered alarm bells in her brain. Despite that, Rin's feet refused to budge, the multitude of rules and protocols drilled into her head informing her that to show fear and hesitation to anyone, especially the Heir of the Matou, was an unacceptable sin.

"Oh? You know about him then? That's not too surprising I guess. Tokiomi Tohsaka and Waver Velvet clashed often enough in the previous war, I imagine your father would have written down _something_ about Rider, wouldn't he? Sensei mentioned that was a possibility I probably had to account for."

Again, the twitch in her throat to speak. To say that father had left her nothing, that what texts and notes recovered after his murder had been stripped of anything regarding the Fourth War. That any information Rin now knew was information she'd only barely managed to steal away from Kotomine; from idle comments and vague generalizations, or from information that wretched man had deigned to let slip from his lips. The urge to clarify, for her to understand that father had left her _nothing_ was nearly overpowering.

But to speak now, to say something regarding that mean, was unacceptable. As much as she despised him, Kotomine Kirei was, and still is she supposed, an ally of the Tohsaka. That the alliance remained, or that it even existed in the first place, was something that could not be hinted at to the other Masters in the war. This went doubly so for Einzbern and Matou, the two other strongest participants in the war, and it would be too damaging for such information to let slip. It would incentivize them to collaborate, to work in tandem against the Tohsaka, and that was something she just couldn't allow to happen.

Rin tried anyway. "There's no reason for us fight each other-"

"Is that how it works?." she giggled, a degree of unhinged mania entering her tone. "The Tohsaka dictates, and the rest of the war fall in line? That's pretty arrogant of you, Tohsaka-senpai, especially after what you've done."

"After what I've done?"

Matou nodded eagerly. "For you to summon that monster into this war, to bombard Shirou's home, to take him _away_ from me-"

"Wait-"

"-and you think we're not going to fight? The _arrogance._ What do you think this is, exactly? Your playground to mess around with people's lives as you see fit? I'm a Matou, you're a Tohsaka and this is the Holy Grail War. We're _supposed_ to butcher each other, aren't we? That's just how this works."

Rin showed no outward discomfort at Matou's instability, merely a cool, calculating, gaze. Internally, her mind raced as it considered and discarded her options.

That she thought Degurechaff was her Servant only made sense. A Servant and a Master, walking side by side in an empty street with no significant protection or permanent fortification between the two? That they had left her heavily defended home, conversing with each other with relative familiarity well within arm's reach? What would be the more reasonable conclusion in such a scenario; that the Master was mad enough to allow an opposing Servant to close the distance in such a situation, or that the Servant and Master were partners?

It was nice that Degurechaff had leaped to her defense when Matou tried to test those bonds, but Rin wasn't so blind as to believe that she'd done it from the goodness of her heart. In life, the Silver Chancellor had excelled in the dissemination of misinformation, misdirecting her foes so as to maximize their vulnerability, and this was just another example of that writ small. She was also thankful that the Servant hadn't just killed her either to ingratiate herself towards the Matou, but she supposed that just went down to what use Rin could offer her. Caster would be a rational actor, and if she chose to save her rather than betray her then that was merely a calculation on her part that it was more valuable to ally with the Tohsaka than it was the Matou Clan. Despite herself and the situation she currently found herself in, Rin felt a certain degree of smug superiority at that knowledge, which she quickly stamped out as soon as it arrived.

"You're not thinking clearly." Rin sighed. "If you were, you'd know just how much of a mistake you're making-"

"Oh, not _that_ much of a mistake." She shot back, defiant, and manic in equal measure. "You're alone, away from your defenses and away from your Servant. I think you're more vulnerable now than you'd likely ever be, such a silly move for such an important keystone of the war to make, don't you think?"

The silence after that was ripe with tension, Rin staring at her with an incredulity that slowly gave way to a burning fury. "Did you just threaten me, Matou?"

She giggled. "I'm just making an observation, Tohsaka. If anything _you're_ the one that's turning this into a fight since you're not telling me what I need to know. Where's _Shirou-_ "

"Ugh. I didn't hurt your little boy toy-"

"He's not my-"

"Whatever," Rin replied tartly, the building frustration from this entire conversation headed to a boil. "I have no reason to answer you, not when you've attacked me and mine, not when you refuse to be rational about all this, and not when you've been so rude about this. I don't understand why you're trying to pick a fight with me, Matou, but if you wanted to speak with me this was the _least_ constructive way we could have done this. You could have just knocked on my door, we could have talked and-"

"-and spoken with you in _that_ house?" Matou sneered, the pleasant facade collapsing into a disdainful, hurt, look that….affected Rin more than she'd expected it to. "So I could sit in the old family home and reminisce about the good old days and allow you to worm your way into my mind and my thoughts? So we could pretend to be close, that the past ten years didn't matter, and you could use me again? To barter me off like meat, and dispose of me when I became inconvenient? So young and _already_ so much like father; so talented, so foolish. I wonder if you'll suffer the same fate he did."

A brief heat of outrage blossomed in Rin's chest. The gall, the insult, to think that she would do anything of the sort to her. Unbidden, Rin found her lips moving again, quickly enough, thoughtlessly enough, that even before her words had escaped her lips Rin knew that she'd regret them. "Do not presume things you have not the barest conception of, Matou. You're no longer a part of this family, remember?"

A singular moment, frozen in time. Sakura's eyes widening in shock, the manic masquerade cut apart to reveal a raw sort of hurt lurking beneath her eyes. Rin's lips pursuing, an apology already on her tongue as a sense of crippling shame settled over her-

Then nothing. The blinders shuttering close. A cool, chiseled, look on Rin's face. A dull, empty, look in Matou's eyes. The brief connection, lost.

"You're completely right." Matou blinked, the brief mirage of her sister briefly manifested, gone in an instant. Cold, lavender, eyes stared at her now. "I _am_ a Matou, the Head of the Matou Clan. Would you like to see what that means?"

The space around Matou _shattered_ , the air distorting like crumpled plastic as fracture lines spread out from the magus like ethereal wings. The shine from fluorescent lights warped and stretched at the very center of the formation, swirling upon the surface of a deep, pitiless, void too black to be entirely natural-

Then suddenly Matou was atop her, eyes blazing bright in the rapidly cooling evening, hands clasped together into a vicious, hammering, blow aimed at Rin's skull. The Tohsaka Heiress only barely dodged in time, the other girl's knuckles rasping her across the forehead, sending the heiress staggering back. Matou rushed forward, hands splayed, reaching out to grab her opponent as Rin backed away in a blind panic. Her hands came together, one in the figure of a finger gun, as the magus held her breath and focused.

Curses spat from the girl's finger, spiraling straight towards the Matou magus only to fizzle out inches away from impact. Fracture lines had reappeared again, a shattered mosaic upon reality that swallowed the spells whole, magical power evaporating into the void. Matou moved forward, relentless, as faint lines of lavender tinged power tracing along her arms and legs as one hand grabbed Rin by the wrist. Arctic blue lines crept across Rin's arms, internal structure reinforced to withstand the pressure from Matou's vise grip, the Tohsaka magus readied her other hand above her head. She swung her fist down, a hammer blow empowered with the speed and power of native reinforcement, the blow more than sufficient to crack Matou's arm in twain.

Matou pushed forward, her body shoulder slamming against Rin's with enough force to drive the air out of her and aborting her strike, before repositioning her stance and bringing Rin's arm over her shoulder. With both hands on the girl's arm, Matou leaned over, her magecraft amplifying her leverage as she slammed Rin into the ground with such force that the very concrete below would have splintered from the impact.

Or at least it would have. Magic flared across Rin's limbs, her arm breaking free from Matou's hold just in time as her free hand touched the earth to stabilize her balance. A burst of energy pushed her off from the ground, clearing enough distance from her opponent that an unaugmented human wouldn't have had the speed necessary to close the distance before Rin could recover.

But the other magus was already moving. Reinforced limbs pushed Matou forward, eyes blazing with rage refined to a tapered point. Rin hastily brought her hand up, obsidian curses launching from her fingers, only to be met with the same shattered void, the magic swallowed up into nothing. Matou braced her leg unto the concrete, a sudden burst of speed sending her off towards her opponent, who only just barely danced away from the flying kick aimed at her heart.

Rin considered her options. An enraged opponent out for her guts, a magical technique that seemed to be neutralizing her ranged options, equal or greater capability in short-ranged combat with an uncertain range of capabilities yet to be uncovered. In addition to this, she was out of her domain, on the defensive and working with an information disparity. After all, last Rin had checked, her father hadn't given Sakura any grappling or close-range combat lessons, and she'd not been particularly inclined towards physical activity at the time either. Sakura would have had to have been taught all that, and Rin was willing to bet what remained of the family fortune that at least one blonde gorilla would have been more than happy to teach Matou everything she needed to know, including any magecraft Luvia had seen her do when they were young. In fact, that nouveau rich bitch probably would have waived any tutoring fees as well, on the condition that Matou would use everything she'd learn against Rin.

As such, with such an overwhelming disadvantage, Rin did the most logical thing she could at the moment. Setting her sights to her manor, reinforcement spells sinking into her flesh, the Heir of the Tohsaka turned tail and ran away from her ex-sister as quickly as possible, ignoring Matou's enraged screams as she did.

" _This seems like it's gone well out of hand."_ Came a cool, mildly amused, voice. Rin growled in frustration, which only elicited a laugh from her Servant.

" _Shut the fuck up, Archer. You're just upset you lost the bet."_

" _Upset that your precious Silver Chancellor didn't try to kill you? Oh my, now I fear my feelings are hurt. It's not like I wanted to see you dead after all, just….humbled, is all."_

The screaming from behind her only grew louder, the sound of something tearing, the world shattering behind her as Matou's outraged words grew nearly incoherent. Rin elected not to look back.

" _If you don't want me to humble_ _ **you**_ _after this is all over, you better get off your ass and actually do something!"_

" _But Master, you told me to sit still and do nothing until you told me to. For you to think I'd go against your orders like that, it breaks my heart-"_

Rin saw the view in front of her distort, the world developing those same hairline fractures that she'd begun to associate with Matou's magecraft. She turned to the side, jumping straight into an alleyway mere moments before lavender-infused hands reached out from the developing void, missing her head by inches. Another frustrated scream from Matou's voice echoed after her, followed by a plank of wood thrown at rather ludicrous speed. The projectile embedded itself into a rock wall that Rin had just bypassed, the velocity of the object sufficient to render the majority of it into splinters raining unto Rin's form. Pinpricks of pain splattered all across her arm and back, which she ignored easily enough. She was much too busy yelling at Archer to mind something as inconsequential as a little pain.

" _Like you even have feelings, you monster! Did you call me for any real reason or are you just gonna waste more of my time? I'm busy dealing with an overemotional idiot right now and I don't need another dumbass blabbing in my head."_

" _Oh, is that what you were doing? Tutoring?"_ Archer remarked lightly. " _Well in any case, I was just here to offer my services is all. This seems like something a good Servant would do right about now."_

" _And how would you do that?"_

" _Well, I've got a nice little vantage point right here you see,"_ Archer noted. " _Even from this distance, I'm sure I can take the shot and neutralize Rider's Master. All you'd need to do is say the word."_

The sound of screeching, breaking glass, the world shuddering once more and Matou appeared right above her. The other Master's hand was raised up, fists clenched together in a hammering blow that Rin spun away from as her magecraft assisted her in executing an upward leap. Matou fell like a truck, her missed blow shattering the stone floor beneath them, rocking the ground with such force that the tremors upon the earth matched nicely with the distant sound of thunder far above. Rin slipped past the maneuver, jumping from wall to wall until she'd reached the roof, whereupon she kept running. Far above her, the sky was erupting into fire and thunder, a cataclysmic orchestra of noise and heat that far outstripped anything that either Masters could conceivably bring to bear. She made her decision.

" _No."_

" _Excuse me?"_

Rin was breathing hard now, though none of that was evident as she spoke to her Servant. " _It's the principle of the thing. If this idiot really wants to pick a fight then I'm not gonna stop her. I_ _ **will**_ _show her how much of an idiot she's being right now, and that lesson isn't gonna stick if you win this fight for me."_

Silence at that, before Archer broke it with a chuckle that seemed more lighthearted, a touch less grim, than it had been before. " _...ah, so you do still care for her. I was wondering about that-"_

More tearing behind her, more screams, but Rin knew better than to let that distract her. " _Fuck off now please, thank you very much."_

" _If you won't have me here, what exactly am I supposed to do then?"_ Archer sighed, his voice taking on a long-suffering tone. " _I suppose I can get some popcorn, this chase has been pretty entertaining so far-"_

" _Go follow Caster."_ Rin snarled. " _If you can back her up and kill Rider, then that knocks Matou out of the war."_

" _Oh? Don't trust Degurechaff to pull her weight? Then again, I'm surprised you still want to help her. Considering how much disdain you had for Emiya cozying up to Kotomine, I was positive that you wouldn't want to associate with her anymore."_

" _Caster defended me, and she's fighting Rider now when she could have just as easily let me die. That's as close to a solid alliance as you can get in a Holy Grail War, and I'm not going to piss that opportunity away. I can handle Matou."_

" _But she can just bring Rider back with her Command Seal-"_

" _So you better make sure he's too dead for her to do that,"_ Rin noted evenly. " _Alexander the Great was a significant problem in the Fourth War, judging from what Kotomine had implied anyway. I rather make sure he dies now, that he's neutralized as a threat, than have to worry about whatever bullshit he's likely to do now. Alexander the Great or not, two on one aren't good odds for anyone. If we do this right, Matou's out of the game and we have an alliance with Caster."_

The silence was longer this time, but when Archer spoke again there was a hint of pride in his thoughts. " _...understood."_

Rin's feet skidded to a stop, heels hitting dirt as she took in her new surroundings. She'd run fast enough, far enough, that the cluster of congested commercial buildings and modest housing had given way to spacious streets and more expansive neighborhoods. She wasn't quite at the Manor's bounded field, but it was well within sight now, and only a little more effort would have her within the ancestral Tohsaka household's bounded field. Once she'd reach that point, it would be impossible for Matou to continue giving chase; she'd vaporize herself against the defensive enchantments like a bird into a jet engine's turbines. She'd _have_ to retreat then, which meant that this was the last opportunity for her to finish the fight.

That cracking sound, the sensation of the world tearing itself apart at the seams, alerted Rin to her presence. But this time, she was ready for it.

The ground yawned open below her, fractures spreading across the earth as Matou came rushing out, hands grasping and tearing at someone who was no longer there. Instead, in lieu of the Tohsaka Heiress, there was now a handful of glittering gems sparkling beautifully in the night, gleaming with a purpose fulfilled. Moments later, those same gems exploded in a cloud of concentrated magical energy, enveloping Matou in a synchronized explosion near impossible for her to absorb all at once.

Rin staggered briefly unto the pavement, bleeding away the kinetic energy of her jump in a light jog as she turned towards the sight of the explosion. It always paid to be prepared, and even in a situation where she _hadn't_ been accompanying Caster, it'd have been foolish not to bring some kind of reserve for exactly this kind of situation. It'd worked well enough when Degurechaff had tried to kill her, it worked well enough here.

"Enough of this, Matou." Rin sighed, the physical and emotional toll of the fight taking its toll. "You're not gonna win this; you lost your initiative, and I'm too close to home for you to risk an extended engagement."

She set her gaze away from the explosion, to the direction of the sky above Miyama Town. The….unusual weather conditions had further dissipated now, though much of the storm clouds still remained. "The Servants are gonna be finished fighting soon. Worst case scenario, you win, and I retreat to the Manor and wait out the rest of the war. Best case scenario, Degurechaff wins, and she'll come over here and bring you to the Church for safekeeping. I don't _want_ to have to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

Silence still, and Rin could barely make out Matou's figure in the dust and smoke. The girl stood tall and proud, seemingly uninjured from the explosion, but if that was the case she would have taken advantage of the opening Rin was giving her. She continued. "Emiya's fine. I have no idea where he is, but if I were you I'd start with the Church. He's chums with Kotomine apparently, and since he's a Master of the War he's probably getting briefed on-"

"You're lying."

Rin blinked at that, taking note of the sullen, disbelieving, tone before continuing. "I'm not lying, it's the truth. Your boy toy is in the war, and I have no idea why you don't already know that. His Saber's something of a powerhouse you know, I bet if that idiot would actually use her properly she'd overwhelm either of our Servants in a straight fight. She doesn't seem the type to settle for mercy like Emiya does-"

"Why are you- no, that can't be it. Shirou wouldn't-"

She sighed. As much as she could understand, or fail to understand anyway, the infatuation Matou had with the big idiot, her reactions just further indicated that Matou's mental state wasn't at _all_ stable. What the hell was the Clock Tower doing, that she was so broken up by one boy that she'd be brought to these extremes. "If you're so worried about his well being, just form an alliance with him. Honestly, with his Saber and your Rider, that's a powerhouse tag team all on its own."

"That's not the _point_ Rin! Stop thinking about the war and think what it means for him!" Matou shrieked her form stumbling out of the cloud in obvious disarray. Without the dust cloud obscuring her, Rin could see that the explosion had done some degree of damage, her skirt torn at the edges, sleeves ripped during the fight. Whether she'd suffered any serious damage was difficult to discern however, no apparent bleeding on any of the fabric. Despite that, the sight of her so wretched and broken triggered something with Rin, the girl reaching forward, before stopping herself mid-step.

"If he's part of the war, then he's in _danger_. He's not the type to stop, not if he thinks something is wrong, not if he thinks there's something he can do to _fix_ things. I didn't want him involved in all of this, I wanted him safe and out of the city, but he insisted on staying instead. Now he's stuck in this bloodbath, and now he's probably going to die because of it."

She continued, an outpouring of emotion that even she found difficult to contain. "You know, sensei told me something once. That family doesn't have to be the people you're born with, it's the people you choose and the people that chose you. The Tohsaka threw me away, you and father threw me away, but he didn't. He didn't care who I was, what happened to me, only that I was someone he could help. I have no idea why I thought you'd be the same as him."

Rin frowned, words caught in her throat. The need to speak burgeoning in her gut, an urge to say something, to clarify anything, only to find nothing there at all. Sakura stared at Rin, eyes searching before the Matou's eyes widened in realization and shock. Her hand reached out, words quickly escaping her lips as the motion revealed three sigils upon her hand, in the shape of a flower petal.

The crimson sigils burned bright, a wave of power pushing away the detritus and smog of the fight, the power of the Grail manifesting itself as it turned the impossible into the possible. A form began to appear in the blazing light, the visage of a kneeling boy in supplication, a distinct impression of dignity and majesty-

Before the light faded and the illusion shattered, revealing a thoroughly butchered and ravaged Rider. The boy seemed barely alive, his gut open and bleeding, skin burnt and cooked by some great fire. Despite all those injuries, the Servant seemed rather content, smiling in apparent satisfaction, almost giddy, if not for the severe life-threatening injuries. Sakura knelt by Rider's side, a look of concern and genuine warmth that took Rin aback.

"I'm such an idiot." She remarked sadly. "Sensei always said that was my problem, that I let my emotions get the better of me. I shouldn't have sent you after that monster, not while I was so distracted. Her Master occupied my attention, but that entire time I didn't hear a peep from you. Why didn't you call me sooner? If you were outmatched, why didn't you let me help you?"

One of the Servant's eyes opened, blinking blearily as he stared back at his Master. After a moment, Rider gave her Master a wide grin.

"I was having too much fun!" Rider boasted, a childish, carefree, laugh interrupted only by the Heroic Spirit's wracking cough. His Master sighed, a long-suffering, gentle, sound. The girl stood, the Servant slowly dissipating into his spirit form as she turned aside and focused her gaze on Rin.

The look was different now. Absent of the manic energy from before, of the terrible sadness so self-evident in her eyes. Now there was only a cool detachment, a calculating gaze that took Rin’s breath away, further demolishing her image of her shy little sister, leaving her with a feeling she found difficult to vocalize.

"Sakura-"

"My apologies for my behavior, Tohsaka-san." Matou remarked, her Servant completely decorporealizing as she spoke. "I'd not intended to fight you, but I allowed things to escalate out of my ability to control. Your ploy was a good one, a well reasoned one, to distract me from noticing that my Servant was in mortal danger, and it very nearly succeeded. You'd outmaneuvered me well, and the Matou congratulate you."

She nodded to herself, seemingly confirming something, a cold certainty settling into her gaze. "Sensei would call this a good learning opportunity, and I'm thankful for it. It won't happen again."

She walked away, moving in the exact opposite direction from the Tohsaka manor and away from Rin. The Tohsaka Master found herself staring dumbly at her fading form, the urge to say something, anything, to get her to stay clashing with that old Tohsaka creed. By the time Rin had figured something out, had allowed herself some leeway to talk with her, it was already too late. Sakura was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This half of the chapter underwent two structural changes, which is two more than I ever want to do with a chapter really. The difficulty came about due to the fact that this chapter was initially set to follow Sakura's pov which, after further consideration, was scrapped in favor of its current form. I also know more about grappling and wrestling than I have ever needed to before, which unfortunately didn't feature quite as much as I thought it would in this chapter, but may nevertheless be useful in the future.
> 
> Next chapter due tomorrow or the day after, depending on further obligations.


	40. 5.0 Invasion

5.0 Invasion

When I'd been briefed upon the Tower's defenses, I'd been informed that a portion of the schematics and strategies that my Master had ultimately decided upon were based on a similar strategy that a prior contestant in the war had done. I'd found it somewhat suspect at the time, that Galliasta was patterning a defensive strategy that another contestant had attempted and failed in, but he'd assured me that while a degree of the strategies utilized were similar, he'd adopted certain other methods that the Lord El-Melloi had not even bothered to consider.

Foremost among them, beyond the collection of mages to do his grunt work, was the fact that the Tower actually utilized technology to a more extensive degree than El-Melloi ever had. Galliasta had, in the interest of allowing his Servant a more comprehensive understanding of his lair's capabilities, informed me that there existed a web of surveillance cameras spreading out from the Tower in all directions. He'd been aware of the identities of some of the war's more prolific Masters, and had committed face-matching technology to identify them should they be seen anywhere within the Shinto district. Some were installed by his mercenaries personally, while most others were simply commercial security cams subordinated into Galliasta's network by one means or another. This network meant that, as far as a direct assault on the building was concerned, any force moving for a direct confrontation would be seen as they approached the building.

Presuming that the cameras would be able to see them anyway. Servants were the fly in the ointment for this strategy, capable of decorporealizing at will and subsequently lopping off this strategy's effectiveness by the knees. A Servant would be capable of fairly extensive reconnaissance before they'd get caught, and while a magus would be able to sense their approach, Galliasta wouldn't exactly be the type to volunteer his own well being so as to serve as an early warning system of questionable usefulness.

Hence, this problem had to be solved, and Galliasta's solution in this was almost charmingly straightforward. The man, or rather his company, had procured nearly two dozen magic sensors from a variety of military surplus sales and other such sources, installing them within and around the Tower's environs into a comprehensive network of remarkable fidelity. He'd personally calibrated each device, ensuring that the machines' detection profile would ignore the ambient energy discharge for their respective location while taking note of any abnormal emanations, thus ensuring that the wards and defenses he'd established wouldn't trigger every alarm in the building at the slightest provocation. This would mean different calibrations for each sensor, in that the detector operating in Galliasta's private residences would likely ignore any burst of magic that could conceivably occur from a magus, while the ones closer to the mercenary training area would be adapted to ignore the energy production of a mage.

In my case, beyond the typical meet and greet I'd performed with Galliasta when he'd summoned me, it also meant that I'd spent some amount of time being calibrated into this detection network. That didn't mean I had carte blanche to do whatever I liked, I'm sure that summoning a significant number of my vestiges would trigger an emergency alarm regardless of whether or not I was tuned in to the system, but if I had chosen to approach this operation with a more stealth-oriented playbook I would have had some degree of flexibility to accomplish it. The sensors wouldn't stop me from reasonably infiltrating my way into the upper sectors of the Tower; a man would die just as easily from a snapped neck as he would from a bullet in the brain after all.

But the existence of the Sensors meant that I would be forced into low impact abilities until I was in an optimal position to go loud. They wouldn't be substantial certainly, low-intensity flight, Item Construction, and decorporealization would essentially be my playbook in such an infiltration. It wouldn't be impossible either, there would be certain areas within the Tower itself where this imposed limit would be lifted, as with the aforementioned training areas. I could imagine myself sneaking through the floors like that, a slow and steady effort until I was directly above Galliasta.

But I simply didn't have the time. I had no idea what my Master intended what with sending his forces en masse to the Church, but it was the perfect opportunity to take him down with minimal casualties. In an ideal scenario, I could remove him from power while still maintaining the vast majority of his own strength and resources; the Tower, the Mercenaries, the outposts, the surveillance networks. If worst comes to worst, I would sacrifice all of that to free myself from that madman's leash of course, but I'd find it preferable if I didn't _have_ to.

I'd briefly toyed with the idea of recruiting others to my cause. Team up with, say, Berserker or Archer- get them to threaten Galliasta's life, force him to burn a Command Seal to summon me, then neutralize him before he knew that he'd been outmaneuvered. But that strategy had too many potential points of failure for me to be happy about it, not the least of which would have been that I knew no other Servant that could be trusted to hold their blades and not simply kill Galliasta outright. Berserker was Berserker, Archer was untrustworthy, Lancer wouldn't turn on his ally and the less said about what Saber or Rider would do with that kind of vulnerability against me the better. Beyond that, it also took up far too much time, Saber would have been the closest person I could have asked for help in regards to this, and beyond her aforementioned eagerness to kill me, I suspected she was simply better off where she currently was. Saber's Master seemed to have something of an inclination towards protecting the innocent, and he would be better served distracting Galliasta's mercenaries than serving as the knife to that man's throat.

The air was chilly as I sped through the clouds, the night sky decorated by a barely visible moon as the clouds did their level best to shroud it from view. The city below seemed particularly ethereal in the moonlight, the sounds, and stench of the modern urban landscape impossible to recognize this far above it all. It was pleasant, nearly peaceful, and as I spied the slowly swelling vista of the downtown Shinto district, I came to recognize the monolithic sight of Galliasta's Tower straight ahead.

Galliasta's disinterest in leaving his abode was both a positive and a negative, as far as this operation was concerned anyway. Beyond his brief dinner with me, he's never _actually_ left the building's bounded field, which assured me that he was going to be within the several floors he'd outlined as his own personal living space. The obvious thought would be that he'd only outlined that personal space as his own while keeping his real space a secret even from me. But I'd already been in that space, the summoning circle he'd used to drag me from the Throne situated on that floor, so I was fairly certain he actually did live there.

The negative was that despite my having been there, Galliasta had never volunteered any specifics regarding his security system. I didn't imagine that any of it would be sufficient to neutralize me if it came down to a contest of strength, but my Master didn't _need_ to neutralize an opponent in that fashion. All he'd need to do would be to delay; either to delay an opposing Servant long enough for his own to arrive and aid him, or delay me sufficiently that I could be corralled with a Command Seal.

I suppose that the man's trust had some limits after all, though that canniness had me considering whether he truly did live within that aforementioned living space or if it was merely a trick, in case I'd turn on him one day. Certainly, I'd been summoned in his personal quarters, but that could just as easily have been a prearranged bed space designed to deceive me for exactly this situation.

I shook my head. This sort of regressive thought spiral wasn't helpful. If Galliasta had already thought things through that far ahead, then any resistance on my part would be doomed to failure. I could be reasonably confident that he was within those floors, and if worst comes to worst, I could simply expand my parameters to include the next few floors above and below the target.

Cut away the fat, focus on what matters. As soon as I made my move, I had only until Galliasta realized the extent of my betrayal and used a Command Seal to bring me in line. If I was lucky and my initial entry point had Galliasta within the premises, I could probably move quickly enough to neutralize him. If I _wasn't_ , then I had until he checked the magic sensors and recognized who the invader was. All in all, if I was being generous, I had perhaps a minute after the initial breach before my Master realized that something was wrong and moved to neutralize me.

I was closer to the skyscraper now, near enough that I could make up individual windows with my enhanced sight, but far enough away that I should be fairly difficult to spot without someone coincidentally looking in my direction. Incidental casualties should be fairly minimal, during the day, the skyscraper was used as a commercial hub, most of which would have already closed up for the night. The locations around Galliasta's sector of the Tower would be largely barren by now, though even if it weren't, circumstances dictated that I'd have to bear through potential casualties regardless. We were long past the time for restraint.

With a flicker of thought, I slowed my velocity down until I existed in a state of perfect stillness. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, reflecting upon the unnatural solitude that my current position allows me to experience as I took a deep breath and focused my thoughts. After this point, once I've made my move, events would likely spiral outside of my control. I was not so naive to imagine that this stasis would stay forever, every participant of this war was waiting for an inciting incident to utilize as a means forward. Something large enough for them to take advantage of, or something eye-catching enough that it would shroud their movements as they operated in the shadows. Even if all goes well, my betrayal would likely serve as that chain reaction. If it didn't go well, then I wouldn't have to worry about it. I'd probably be dead within the next thirty minutes anyway.

I released my breath, cerulean lightning sparking all around me. " _Only the Chosen may enter my Garden."_

Visages arrayed around me, ghostly figures of the lost and the dead. They expanded out, dark shadows forming into several groups as they flew out into the gentle night. A moment's thought set them towards their objective, targeting parameters set and installed before I took sight towards the Tower. My gaze settled on a vaguely familiar section, figures walking behind glass windows, largely unidentifiable except for the fact that they were of feminine build. It had been the floor I was summoned from, I was fairly certain. From which I had first spoken to my Master, and where Galliasta had outlined his intentions for the war. That would serve quite nicely.

Lightning flashed around me again, magic suffused into my bones as my body rushed forward, uncaring for the strictures of the physical world. My vision blurred, the world twisting as my form cut through the air, my shields barely registering the reinforced plexiglass windows shattering in my wake. For the briefest moments, I caught glimpses of Galliasta's playthings, lounging about in gentle repose, more similar to cats at rest than anything else as they chatted to each other and lazed about. My speed was sufficient that they hadn't yet registered anything wrong, their reactions almost comically sedate and slothful given my entrance.

Then the moment passed, and my body crashed through the walls and into a reinforced, load-bearing, pillar with the destructive force of an artillery shell. The sheer velocity of the impact shattered the pillar into fragments, the wind following my path as it blew away all in my wake, reverberations echoing throughout the upper floors of the skyscraper as the building creaked ominously. Despite the menacing implications of such an impression, I was still nearly deafened by the screams of Galliasta's paramours as they finally reacted to my arrival.

In prior cases, and if the situation wasn't so vitally important, I might have allowed for some consideration for modesty and their own safety; strictly speaking, these girls had not done anything particularly wrong. The worst that could be attributed to them was the propensity and willingness to warm Galliasta's bed. With such a limited amount of time to operate in, however, the odds that they may inconvenience the operation, that they may lie to protect Galliasta during interrogation, and the lost time that such an act may bring? They just weren't worth the effort.

Brief flashes of cerulean light were seen from a distance, burning stars in the dark of the night. Moments later, a rain of magically enhanced munitions shredded the lounge behind me, shredding the women apart and rendering them into so much meat and gristle. Their death throes were brief and short-lived, alarms blaring loudly enough that whatever screams they uttered were drowned out in the ensuing noise, allowing me to direct my attention to the rest of the operation.

All around the Tower, teams of my visages were carrying forward with the plan. One team expertly shot out the mechanisms and gears necessary for the operation of the elevators, several others repeating the destruction behind me on other floors and other corners of the Tower as several other groups shot at and disabled what magic sensors were within reach. The alarms bleared into my ears, a cacophony of screams impossible for anyone to ignore as my eyes scanned my surroundings, hunting for my Master.

There was a purpose to the madness, a reason for such chaos and damage. Galliasta was, if nothing else, a coward; he would not purposefully put himself in harm's way unless left with no other alternative. His prior behavior supported this, the only way that he would respond against an opponent is if he'd manage to ascertain a means by which he could retaliate from a position of strength.

Presuming that he'd realize, immediately, that his Servant had turned on him? Galliasta would be able to easily and effortlessly neutralize my momentum via the use of a Command Seal and drastically reduce my window of opportunity to find him. But with the addition of multiple sources of fire, uncertainty as to whether I was acting alone or brought the Tresillo, and others to act with me, it would likely cause him to hesitate. Yes, he could conceivably carry on regardless and use it to slaughter whoever else I may have brought to bear, but I imagine that he would not yet be desperate enough to gamble with his life in such a way. Odds were, that he would retreat first, securing a position of safety for himself before commanding my obedience. He was not yet desperate enough to sacrifice the certainty of safety for the uncertainty of being caught in an accidental blast zone.

And if he _did_ get hit and was severely injured in the ensuing explosions? I'd deal with it if it happened. Saving my Master from bleeding to death was substantially more palatable than having to endure his command seals.

But all this just wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Not when Galliasta was still, presumably, still somewhere amongst this ruin. Not when he could still pose a threat. I need to move faster, cover more ground, before he could find somewhere to hide and turn this all around.

" _A reward fitting for your Loyalty, your Obedience."_

More visages appeared, shadows manifesting not only in the area around me but the floors directly above and below. With a thought I sent them marching ahead of me, a column of obsidian smoke clearing the path for me.

They found a token level of resistance. The walls grew and shrank, illusions blinding us from the path as they were blown away in a flurry of cerulean light. Men and women appeared from the shadows wearing the guise of Galliasta's security forces, firing at my shadows only to be gunned down by magically enhanced gunfire. Occasionally, Galliasta's playthings would stumble out of derelict rooms, bodies ravaged by my bombardment, only to be shot and killed, same as all the rest. Mercy was something I could ill-afford.

Ten seconds had passed by this point, and I intensified the bombardment. From outside, my visages destroyed walls and shattered concrete, showering the floors in dust and rubble as shards of glass and steel fell from the Tower. The shadows were not sentient, they did not entertain notions of mercy, only fulfilling their directives as I instructed them to. So it was that more of Galliasta's men fell, more of the building was rendered to rubble, and I floated through it all, eyes on the objective.

By the thirty second mark, I was growing concerned. The absolute worst-case scenario was that Galliasta was elsewhere in the Tower, cognizant of the attempt on his life yet safe enough to pull on my leash at his leisure. In such a situation I was completely fucked, though I couldn't exactly do anything about it in such a case. There were more than fifty floors within the Tower itself, and I was incapable of scouring all of them in an effort to catch him should he not be in the kill box. I would have gambled unwisely then, and my options for retaliating in such a situation were grim.

It wasn't until the forty-seven second mark, amidst a pool of broken bodies and shattered concrete, that I found him.

My Master was on the floor below me. A disheveled mess, his clothes ripped, torn, and soaked with blood, a variety of interesting new wounds all across his body. Yet for all that, he remained alive, though his eyes were wide and bloodshot, possessing a newly procured limp, yet alive all the same. The sleeve of one of his arms was burnt, the taste of static and ozone in the air as his gaze swept across my visages evidently in search of me. Outrage, panic and horror were the predominant emotions in his face before his expression settled into a look of fury and determination.

On his uninjured side, gleaming crimson runes made themselves known upon Galliasta's hand. Unused and pristine, the man had all his Command Seals. And that's all that mattered.

"Caster." Galliasta growled, eyes filled with rage. By my Command-"

Before he could complete his command, his words empowering the Seal until its completion, I willed that he cease.

From across the Tower, upon strategically chosen junctures, my sigils activated. Blood spilled on the day of my summoning, my territory established in order to defend my Master's holdings, were twisted and bent to imbue my will upon him instead. From all across the Tower alarms rang, from the very ground floor all the way to the roof, my crimson will emanating throughout the building. The sigils activated all at once, before the marks narrowed down into the specific floor that Galliasta resided in.

Galliasta choked on his words, eyes still wide in fury, body frozen in accordance with my will. I could feel the mana drain from my defiance of the natural order, the establishment of my authority against the world. I suspect that my Master could feel the drain on his reserves which, if I was the petty sort, I would likely have rubbed into his face if I could.

I'd not started this war with the presumption of betraying my Master like this, such dishonesty and deception just wasn't helpful for any contract to be executed in good faith. Despite that, the logic of my victory here was unassailable. As long as I knew where Galliasta was, as long as I could identify which floor he was in, and as long as this could all be done before he could trigger his Command Seal, the odds of my success were rather good.

I could have done this from the beginning I suppose, but the mana requirements for such a maneuver would have been crippling. I hadn't known where, specifically, Galliasta would have been hiding. As such, I would have had to impose my domain upon multiple floors, influencing who knows how many personnel, mercenaries or paramours. The cost of my Territory Control grew exponentially with the size of the domain in particular and the number of souls within. This was a far more efficient use of my resources, and with the vast majority of personnel on that floor dead, the mana cost was significantly more manageable.

But I could see the rage and determination in that man's eyes. It wasn't quite over yet, and with his voice echoing across my mind, the man had discovered a loophole.

" _By my Command Seal-"_ Galliasta continued, our link allowing him another means to continue his command. " _I-"_

The roof above him shattered, showering him in rubble and dust as I swept in from above and kicked him across the head. The force of my blow was sufficient for him to collapse to the floor, the command in my mind faltering as the sudden confusion was sufficient enough for him to close concentration. Cerulean lightning manifested in my hands, a falchion settling into my grip as I grabbed at his wrist. A backhanded slash from my free hand tore the blade through my Master's elbow, severing bone and meat in a single strike, leaving only stray bits of ligament behind to connect the limb to his body. Blood poured from the wound, severed arteries bleeding throughout the ruined hallway as the crimson light of his Command Seals flickered and faded.

" _Wait-no, Caster st-"_

But it was too late. My hand blurred again, cutting the stray meat and ligaments connecting the arm to the man's body. With it came a...finality of sorts, the light of the Command Seals dying, dull crimson runes still etched firmly unto his hand as I severed the last bit of control the man had over me.

Galliasta was screaming into my head, castigations, and curses on his lips as the falchion dissipated in my hands. His arm was still warm in my hands, the Command Seals preserved perfectly as my gaze set out to take in my surroundings. The partially tilted ceiling, a result of my empowered tackle against the upper floor's pillars. The shattered concrete and rubble, the bodies buried beneath the ruins. I hadn't been paying any attention as to the number of people dead per se, but I was fairly certain that several dozen would be a fairly conservative estimate.

I let out a breath, letting lose tension and anticipation that I hadn't even realized I'd been harboring up to this point. Along with that breath came my relinquished control over my Master, the crimson control I had over him dissipating. The transfer over from him screaming psychically at me, to him just plainly screaming, was barely noticeable.

All in all, I was pleasantly surprised. Things didn't go quite as bad I thought they would have.

* * *

The Tower's control room was situated within Galliasta's personal living quarters, two floors up from where I'd neutralized my Master. For being so thoroughly in the line of fire, the room was remarkably undamaged from my raid. Given its position relative to the assault though, the room's relative solidity wasn't all that surprising. It was smack dab right in the middle of the Tower, situated far enough from the corners and outlying sections of the skyscraper that even my visages opening fire had damaged remarkably little here.

This was relative to the rest of the Tower, of course. Walls had been brought down, bullet holes were visible on every inch of floor and carpet. Odds were that if you were to lie down at any point in Galliasta's penthouse, you would have likely, on average, sustained twelve bullets somewhere across your body. Complete target saturation, unfettered from the realities of the laws of physics, something I deeply appreciated from my visages.

Speaking off, I'd sent my ghosts outward, patrolling Galliasta's floors with reasonable degrees of efficiency. Those visages hovering outside had been largely dismissed, the remainder standing post in tactical positions throughout the recently acquired territory. There were few survivors if any, mostly paramours truly lucky enough not to have been in any particularly vulnerable areas when I'd started my assault. They'd sustained injuries, of course, burns or bullet holes and such, but after a thorough patching up they were medically stable. I had half a mind to interrogate them once everything had settled down, perhaps there was something useful in all that pillow talk that Galliasta had let slip.

Regardless, I was getting ahead of myself. Order had to be reestablished first and to accomplish that, certain steps had to be undertaken.

"Rodriguez, do hear me?"

"Miss Sioux! I'm glad you're okay, we just received-"

"Ah, ah. Don't interrupt. I want you to listen to me very carefully" I ordered, which adequately silenced the man. "Here's what I want you to do. I want you to get in touch with the rest of the Tresillo. I want them to spread out throughout the Tower and take stock of resources and damages. I want you to take figure out if anyone had been injured or been rendered otherwise indisposed from recent events. Ensure their injuries are taken care of but pacify them if necessary. I don't want them making a fuss."

"Understood ma'am." The lieutenant remarked, which I was rather pleased with. It was always good to work with professionals. "What about the Southwind people?"

The Southwind? Ah, Galliasta's mercenary company. The American one. "Tell them to hold position where they are. If they're currently out on other objectives, I want them to return to the Tower asap."

"I'm not sure if I can do that ma'am. They answer directly to Mr. Galliasta."

"Then tell them that Mr. Galliasta is no longer a relevant factor for the remainder of this operation," I said patiently. Of the Tresillo, Rodriguez was the nominal leader. He, if no one else, would be able to grasp the reality of the current situation. "Which means that they are either to pack their bags and leave without pay or accept that reorganization is simply something that they'll have to endure for the immediate future. The choice is theirs."

There was silence on the other line before Rodriguez spoke again. His voice steady and acquiescent. "Understood, boss. Glad to hear it."

I ended the call with a sigh. At least the question of the mercenaries' loyalty could be settled with minimal issue. In this case, I was rather lucky. Mercenaries rarely operated with any strong ideological perspective. For the particularly ethical, the only notable fetter they would possess in regards to their rampant pursuit of wealth would be the adherence to any previously agreed upon contract. Such companies were like a business after all, and it would be bad PR if it was widely known that they were willing and able to strike down contracts when convenient.

I'd have to think of what to do with the non-Tresillo mercenaries though. I'd secured my company's allegiance easily enough, but the Southwind was another matter entirely. I couldn't be assured of either their capability _or_ their loyalty, and such matters made dealing with them somewhat difficult. In the worst-case scenario, I would have to capture and imprison a few of them for crimes against humanity what with their kidnapping of the children and allow the rest to go free with a healthy severance check. At the minimum, that should push them out of the game. An elegant solution, with minimal loose ends by the end of it. Though if I truly wanted them neutralized after this war, I suppose I could just send Kotomine and his dogs after them. I never did ask that man about the legality of paramilitary contractors in this war, did I?

"Why are you doing this?"

His voice was weak, the sibilant hiss and raspy breath indicative of some degree of internal damage done to his body. That or the extensive blood loss, which wasn't particularly good either, but I was fairly confident he'd survive. Nonetheless, I turned away from the screens, settling my full attention upon my Master. He was splayed against one of the office chairs, limbs askew like a dead spider which, in all honesty, was somewhat amusing. Visages stood behind him, dark wispy fumes escaping from their gaseous figures. "Why am I doing what?"

"This….this _rebellion_." He slurred, barely conscious, though he kept bleary eyes settled unto me. "Why...do this?"

"It was nothing personal, Master." I remarked, looking him up and down. I'd cauterized his arm in an effort to stop the bleeding, an act I tried not to exhibit too much pleasure in, and had my visages treat and bandage the rest of him. Beyond the obvious weakness and exhaustion, Galliasta seemed fairly coherent, so I decided to give him a serious answer. "Consider it the mechanics of war, really. Your leadership has led to less than optimal usage of our strength, and the risks you undertook to develop such strength was not particularly wise."

Galliasta seemed barely able to comprehend my words, blinking for a few moments before he spoke again. "S-so that's why...you did all this? For fucking...optimal production, is that it?"

"Oh of course not." I tsked. "If it was just that, then we could have simply talked things through and settled this like adults. No, no. I was going to turn on you eventually, once I figured what you were doing to the civilian population and the children. That was just a matter of time."

He narrowed his eyes, confusion evident in his face. "What?"

I sighed. Perhaps I was giving him too much credit, there was probably a concussion hidden away there somewhere. I took a knee to better look him in the eye. "Your experiments are horridly unethical, though more to the point they were attracting extensive _attention_ from other sources. How many children had your lot captured during that period exactly? Hundreds? For a glorified battery? There was no way that exchange was worth it. You're not dumb enough to ignore that, right?"

"...what attention?" Galliasta coughed and I rolled my eyes.

"Attention from Kotomine and the Church. From the damn _referees_ of the war, Master." I drolled. Now that I was no longer subject to his orders, our relationship now more akin to a tank and its engine, I felt rather energetic. "They _knew_ what you were up to. It was only a matter of time until they figured out it was you, and then we'd _both_ have been killed. This is just an act brought about in the interest of survival Master, nothing more."

Which wasn't exactly the truth. I had very strong feelings regarding the rampant kidnapping and experimentation that Galliasta was up to, but voicing that now would just be petty and, more to the point, not helpful. Until I acquired another Master, Galliasta had to survive. It would be problematic if I irritated him enough to the point that he'd kill himself to spite me.

He spoke up again, the anger in his eyes turning confused. "N-no. That's not-"

I scoffed. "What? That you thought we wouldn't escape their attention? C'mon Master, that's just not realistic."

"Of course not." Galliasta coughed again, a brief splash of irritation in his eyes. "Never expected the Church not to notice-"

"Then why did-"

"He promised me." Galliasta ground out, in obvious pain, but a mounting look of anger that gave me pause. "We made a deal, that Kotomine and I. He said that he wouldn't interfere in whatever I did. I was free to take what I needed, that the Church would cover it up if it had to."

I froze at that, processing his words. "I- what?"

"Spoke to him, once I arrived." He gasped, eyes moving past me. "Talked to him….paid my respects. Said he was impressed with me, wanted to make this war the last, offered me a leg's up over everyone else-"

My thoughts blurred at his words, eyes narrowed as I considered the implications. "What else?" I commanded, my voice cold. "What else did he say?"

Galliasta's eyes widened slightly, gaze still away from mine before he coughed again. "Waste of breath. Doesn't matter now."

The visages beside him reacted to my ire, hands reaching forward to snap at his shoulders. "It stops mattering when I say it stops mattering. Now keep going."

The man smiled, teeth bloody, before he rested his head back and away from my gaze, his sole remaining hand pointing towards the screen. "Waste of time. Look."

I narrowed my eyes, following his gaze as I turned to study one of the screens. It was fairly nondescript, same as every other display, though in this case, the display was transmitting the point of view of one of the camera feeds by the lobby of this floor.

Of more substantial concern was that, despite my efforts to neutralize all access in and out of this floor, an elevator was still operational. In fact, it seemed to be moving at an unusually fast pace, speeding through floor after floor with worrying speed. Visages manifested nearby, in lockstep with each other to receive the passengers as my eyes flickered away from the screen, in search of any camera that could confirm the deep, gnawing, pit of concern growing in my stomach. A fruitless gesture, whether due to the device inside having been manually disabled or one of the screens here having been damaged during my assault, I was left entirely in the dark.

That was, until the lobby gave a cheerful little chime and vomited the entire elevator out into the lobby, lift and all. The metal coffin came out door first, the velocity of its arrival sufficient to scatter my visages at its arrival. A flurry of strikes followed, shredding the metal shell to pieces and, somehow, butchering through each and every visage positioned in that lobby. The metal shell came apart at the seams, shadows dissipating into ash as it did, revealing a figure in blue grinning in anticipation, a crimson lance in hand. Beside him was a woman clad in a dark suit, dusting off the dust and ash that had begun collecting on her shoulders, her limbs mysteriously whole despite the fact she was nearly dead on her feet twenty-four hours ago. Lancer took another step forward, his weapon lashing out, and I lost the visual feed on the lobby.

"If dear Bazett doesn't murder you by the end of all this." Galliasta crowed, a bloody smile on his lips. "Then come back to me. Maybe we can have another chat then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Next chapter will return to the regularly scheduled- well, schedule. Thank again for everyone's patience.


	41. 5.1

5.1

I absorbed Galliasta's words, briefly pausing to consider that he might be lying, before dismissing it entirely.

Irritatingly, that Kotomine had been backing Galliasta from the shadows made too much sense given the information available to me. That my Master, or rather former Master, had been so jolly excited to make an enemy of every Master in the war via his rampant kidnappings never did make much sense; he was far too cautious to attract the attention of so many, so quickly. His leverage with Kotomine answered the question for why he was so confident that the Church would not retaliate from his foolishness, but it also shed light as to the less than fair resources he'd brought to bear for this contest. Surely if Galliasta could bring a small army into Fuyuki, the other competitors could as well; that Kotomine was likely ignoring the legality of Galliasta's maneuvers also lined up as to why I hadn't encountered Clock Tower assassins or Einzbern soldiers operating alongside the opposition's Masters.

Exacerbating as well. This was exactly the kind of situation that I would have dearly needed to know _before_ I'd made any moves against the other combatants. If the rules were flexible enough to be bent in our favor, then it opened up a great deal of possibilities in what exactly I could do. It meant that there was a practical time limit wherein we could leverage this advantage to its maximum potential but before the other competitors could realize that the game was rigged from the start. Perhaps nothing so extreme as bombarding the enemy in broad daylight, at least not at first, but the knowledge that the arbiter of the war would have sided with us in any legal dispute was an incredibly powerful tool. I allowed myself a moment to feel impressed at such a maneuver, if not for the ominously large blade hanging over Galliasta's head and, by association, mine.

What did Galliasta trade, that he could gain Kotomine's cooperation like this? Considering the priest's predilections, I had a suspicion I knew what it was, though knowing such didn't particularly give me any joy. A sticking point for the future probably, but if I didn't act now, there was a very good chance that I wouldn't live to see that future.

I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea and exhaustion crashing against me, such that I had to reach for a nearby control panel and steady myself. Galliasta seemed amused by this, chuckling despite the concussion I'd given him.

"You better...just give up, Caster," he slurred. "Bazett will save me, and if you surrender now then-"

"Please." I sighed, turning my back to the man and facing the screens. "Shut him up."

My visages complied, Galliasta only managing a yelp of protest before he was socked in the jaw with sufficient force that he nearly toppled off the seat before the shadows righted him back in place. Silence fell, and with it I could put my full attention to the screens in front of me, my view of this floor of the Tower rapidly dimming with each camera that fell to their inexorable advance.

Ideally speaking, I would have preferred not to deal with Lancer or his Master so soon. I was aware that attacking Galliasta had put me in a vulnerable position, but I much preferred the current situation to the alternative. Galliasta was operating under objectives and paradigms that made him short-sighted and reckless, and in a situation as precarious as this war, such an arrangement could no longer be tolerated. I knew that, given their alliance, McRemitz and Galliasta would likely come to my Master's defense but, perhaps out of some fleetingly brief flirtation with absurdity and delusional thinking, I'd hoped that I wouldn't have had to deal with them quite so soon.

Though it wasn't quite _too_ delusional to expect otherwise, I think. The last I'd seen of them, Lancer had clashed with Berserker mere moments after I'd left the docks, with the entire area erupting in a cascade of fire shortly thereafter. For all I knew, Berserker had murdered Lancer and McRemitz both- certainly not an ideal situation what with the dwindling supply of available Masters to bond with, but removing Lancer from play would have been an acceptable outcome. It's not as though I'd done any work towards shifting her opinion of me towards the green, I'd have lost nothing had she died.

Another wave of nausea, coupled with something like dread at the bottom of my gut. I pushed through it, though I smiled ruefully at the less than subtle reminder. A Master was a Master, so I'd take what I could get regardless of the effort involved. Though that presumed that I'd have eliminated Lancer by that point, a dangerous assumption to make. My gaze flickered to the screens.

The camera could barely pick up the crimson blur from his hands as he swept his lance to and fro, closing the distance between himself and my visages. Lancer swung his weapon with a childish recklessness, a grin plastered unto his face as he carved slender ravines unto the walls and floors of the Tower, moments before gouging out my manifestations with ease. Certainly, they tried to run, to create space between themselves and that monster, but it just wasn't enough. In an open plain, they might have been able to outpace the Servant, flying above and beyond Lancer's ability to kill them, but fighting in such constrained hallways might as well have been a death sentence. He was more agile on his feet than my visages were floating in mid-air, and so long as they could not maintain a healthy distance between the Servant and themselves they would be useful only to delay the opposition.

 _That_ man was the most immediate threat, his every action outlined the sheer danger involved that came with merely existing within his area of control. Traditional logic would have a spear-wielding warrior in such confined spaces to be at a disadvantage what with the terrain forcing one to limit their movements so as to avoid lodging the weapon into the ground or wall, but Cu Chulainn's sheer lethality and strength made such a consideration pointless. Engaging him in melee combat might as well be ritualized suicide, and even if I were at my best, maintaining my presence within his reach would be a harrowing experience at best.

My gaze flickered to another screen, McRemitz following her Servant at a brisk pace, all the more noteworthy considering that she'd been limping earlier this morning. The pair was sufficiently far apart that, when a visage appeared out from a corner and bathed the hallway with cerulean light, Lancer wasn't quite in a position to properly defend his Master.

Though it became abundantly clear, very quickly, why he didn't feel the need to do so. McRemitz's limbs began to glow a viridescent green, magic reinforcing her limbs as she rushed forward, an explosive velocity that scattered ash in her wake and set the walls shaking from the discharge. The Clock Tower agent seemed not the least bit concerned at the oncoming fire, her fists rushing forward to bat the munitions out of the air with mechanical precision. Munitions exploded behind her, the magical spells imbued with each bullet destabilizing into a multicolored conflagration that bathed her in color as she closed the distance with my visage. A hand grabbed the phantom's weapon, slapping it aside as her other hand stuck close to her waist, fist upraised in a ready stance.

In a motion too fast for the camera to pick up, the visage was obliterated, McRemitz's fist plunging through the phantom's heart, splattering puffs of shadow and dust as my puppet began to dematerialize. McRemitz continued on, the encounter dismissed from her mind as she continued to follow her Servant, who'd not spared his Master a single glance throughout the entire encounter.

They continued like this for a while longer, Lancer in the lead as McRemitz followed behind, the pair working in graceful tandem as they dismantled my forces with every step they took. In a way, I was almost jealous; while I'd seen Masters capable of combat, or at the very least of not folding instantly upon being contested, it was another thing entirely to see these two operate with such coordination and instinct. I couldn't quite imagine the Einzbern Master deigning to fight side by side with Berserker in much the same fashion, and while I could see Rin having the combat skills necessary to survive, I didn't imagine Archer and Rin as being particularly complementary towards each other like these two were proving to be. At least not to the same extent, anyway.

Nonetheless, their fight through the Tower revealed an integral fact; they were operating blind. They ran quickly, fought, and killed with utilitarian efficiency, but the way they pressed forward, only to step back and proceed elsewhere, did not indicate that they had a full accounting towards the floor's layout and schematics. They were searching for someone, Galliasta most likely, and were acting comprehensively to ensure that they don't miss him among the rubble and the dead. They might not even know of the location of the control room, though that in and of itself wasn't surprising; Galliasta was not so trusting as to allow another Master to know the nerve center of his entire operation.

Still, that situation would not last forever. Soon enough, via the process of elimination or upon them noticing the oncoming burst of magic I was about to perform, they would find me eventually. There was only so much space they could scour before eventually stumbling upon us, and I needed only a little bit more time.

I felt my knees shake, my breathing hitch, as more of my visages manifested. They revealed themselves outside the confines of the Tower, outside the limits of my Domain, and almost immediately I could feel them begin to unravel. Whisps of ash and shadow unsnarling themselves in the gentle snow, though not before they unleashed another wave of explosions that rocked the building to its foundations. Cerulean light bombarded the Tower, the security cams showing Lancer stagger backward as he moved to defend his Master before the feed died in the flames of yet another magical explosion.

A wave of lethargy, more metaphysical than psychological, washed over me and I figured it was about time now. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air that it probably didn't really need, before exhaling it in a sudden burst. I clapped my hands, less an application of my power and more an impulsive gesture, and nodded my head.

It wasn't an ideal scenario. I'd hoped to be alone and secure when I started this, but given the current situation, this would have to do.

Galliasta's arm burned bright in my senses, uncomfortably hot in my grip, a blazing sun empowered not by hydrogen and helium but by the artificial construct of man-made effort. The source of such a sensation was easily enough to identify, dull sigils the color of dried up blood upon a rapidly paling hand. For all that it was severed and dead, it nonetheless _thrummed_ with life.

Command Seals were proof positive of a Master's contract with a Servant, the most physically obvious sign of that metaphysical bond present in the world. Even with my limited ability to truly understand what the hell I was seeing, I could tell that its designers had been geniuses in their craft. Through my eyes, it thrummed with all the intricacy and precision of a pocket watch; magical energy flowing forth from the Fuyuki leylines, the human Master serving as a conduit, as it kept the Servant grounded to this world.

And that flow of power had been cut by my hand, severing my bond with Galliasta and the Grail, a death sentence for anyone else as I was left to slowly wither away and die. I could feel the World encroaching into my existence, the pressure omnipresent and disdainful, like some long-absent landlord discovering that a neglected property had turned into a cockroach hive. I felt like an interloper, something that was not right or proper in this place, to be excised and banished as was my due.

But the World would just have to be disappointed a while longer. My Domain thrummed at the edges of the Tower, sigils deteriorating and faltering, but holding nonetheless. It staved off my dissolution for a while longer, my authority sufficient to delay the bleeding. Not enough to sustain me indefinitely, but it was enough to secure a lifeline, one that was rapidly withering as I took on Lancer and his Master from afar. The moment my Domain was disrupted, an easy enough task to do should they discovered my sigils, then I would share the same fate as those visages outside. A slow, painful, death as my individual components decayed to nothing. This problem needed to be solved first, all other considerations can wait.

My gaze met Galliasta's. Despite the concussions, he still seemed conscious, though not quite completely there in any case. His eyes met mine, and perhaps there was something lurking beneath my expression, a near instinctual familiarity over having been in my position so many times with far, far more vulnerable subjects, that clued in my former Master to his predicament. His eyes widened, panic flooding his gaze with terror, as his mouth began to move and he raised his remaining hand-

My hand lashed out, seizing Galliasta by his wrist. Behind him, a vestige grabbed him by the shoulder while another took his neck into a stranglehold. He kicked his legs out in desperation, body only barely contained into his seat, as he screamed something incoherent; perhaps a spell, perhaps pleading for me to stop, though the particulars didn't really matter at this point. My breath misted in the cool air, my body shuddering in tune with the Tower as my fingers pierced his skin and drew blood.

" _For the Wonders are mine, an Age of Reason built upon the Art of the Possible."_

The Command Seals burned bright, the ephemeral hallucination of its power in my sight made manifest into the real world. The sigils grew hotter and hotter, from old blood to new, from new to that of a burning flame. Through my eyes, I could see the strands of my magic reach forward, my former Master's skin burning up as my influence seeped into his flesh and bones. Galliasta's screams only grew louder, his rabid shuddering and resistance kept in check by the shadows holding him down.

Beyond the meat and the screams, there was a sort of beauty in this. Of exerting my will, the feeling of another dimension, another territory, expanding in my sight so as to maximize my needs. With one hand upon his severed arm and the other upon his wrist, the connection between his entire body established via my own being as a bridge, I assumed control of his magic circuits.

To Galliasta himself, the loss of his arm had resulted in the loss of his connection with his Servant, but the framework for our contract wasn't necessarily lost. The rudder was gone, the means to meaningfully direct the vessel ripped from his grasp, but the ship yet remained. With access to his still-living body, upon which I could claim his magic circuits, and access to his Command Seals, still merged with the circuits in his severed hand, I could reopen that conduit.

In my mind's eye, I flexed those circuits in my hand, connecting those magic circuits together, the Command Seals recognizing both Master and Servant reunited again, the necessary parameters for access to the Grail met. Mana flowed from the Grail once more, passing through Galliasta's magic circuits and into myself, his role that of a Master in name only, access to both his magic circuits and the Seals robbed from him, for as long as I maintained contact. The output feeding into me was greatly diminished, as all things were when my Noble Phantasm subsumed magecraft for my use, but it would serve as a stopgap for now.

Sometime during this process, Galliasta had fallen unconscious, though I couldn't quite bring myself to care. Dimly, I could sense that there was a change outside; that Lancer and his Master had paused, an aberrant trend to their recent behavior that did not at all set me at ease. A refocusing of my will had my visages intensified their bombardment, the shadows outside strengthening, no longer at the edge of destruction as they fulfilled their duty with aplomb. The monitors transmitted what information they could see, flashes of cerulean energy blocking out the vista ahead of them before a storm of static signified their subsequent destruction. The added fire barely seemed to affect the duo, before they suddenly started moving again, faster, and with more brutal efficiency than before.

In my direction.

I turned my attention back to Galliasta. The crimson light of his Command Seals, my Command Seals now I suppose, dimming to a barely perceptible glow. For all that I'd achieved some measure of survival, fighting with both hands occupied just wasn't feasible. With a mental command, one of the visages put their hand out, dark shadows more opaque and solid, now that I'd secured my mana supply. With some trepidation, I handed the arm over to the shadow before letting go.

The effect was immediate and unpleasant, the glow of Galliasta's magic circuits dimming in my vision, the uninterrupted flow of mana between him and I faltering into a stream. I looked over to my visage, unblinking gaze staring back at me, the nearly imperceptible glow of the Command Seals a sign that the plan still worked. I repeated the process to Galliasta's hand, the other shadow already holding a firm grip upon the magus, and the sensation was further exacerbated; the stream turning into a trickle, a supply substantially smaller than what I'd been getting with physical contact, which was again smaller than an actual contract with a Master. But a trickle was still better than nothing, sufficient to keep me moving until I found a replacement.

The Art of the Possible was a remarkably temperamental thing. It did not respond well to subsuming multiple targets, intent only on the incorporation of one element at a time. It wanted me to maintain contact with the target, an impractical requirement in a battle against Heroic Spirits. Nonetheless, I'd spent some time considering how exactly my abilities might best synergize with each other, and the most interesting had been whether or not my visages, an extension of my own will, could maintain the Art of the Possible without the need for physical contact.

I doubted that I could, or even should, utilize my visages to activate the Noble Phantasm remotely. The effect of this was already incredibly diluted from the watered-down benefits I'd been granted through the Art, a servant with even the most minimal degree of Magic Resistance would be able to shake it off with minimal effort.

But this was still good. This still _worked,_ and it meant that my death moved away from inevitable, to just probable. I could work with probable.

The door burst open and I focused my will on the walls behind me. Structures of concrete and metal empowered with Galliasta's magics and well within the confines of my Domain. I gathered up what mana I still possessed, focusing my will unto the obstructions as my authority echoed out in an ethereal voice.

" _Crumble."_

Fortifications faltered, magic died, and the material of the wall itself decayed to ash as my visages fled through the miasma, Galliasta and his arm still in their grip. A wave of nausea fell over me as the whiplash struck me like a physical thing, a migraine forming that nearly distracted me from the glint of crimson at the edge of my vision, Lancer rushing forward to impale me.

The crimson spear carved through my shield, its velocity impacted sufficiently that instead of severing the back of my neck, its tip merely caught me at my shoulder, shoving me forward into Galliasta's recently vacated seat. I set my gaze behind me, just in time to see Bazett rush past the two of us, gaze set directly upon my retreating visages, as Lancer's armored boot came rushing to my head.

Unthinkingly, I brought my arm upward to block the blow, only to feel my entire body thrown upward by the force of Lancer's kick, my arm breaking near instantly from impact. The spear twisted around my wound, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that my body was twisted around it. The pain was excruciating, but with the sudden velocity of Lancer's kick, I managed to leverage the momentum so as to jerk my shoulder forward and away from the enemy. Meat and bone broke free from the lance, strings and shards flying in every direction, my body now straight across from Lancer's as my feet landed upon the ceiling. My flight spells kicking in and ensuring that I maintain some degree of distance.

If Lancer was perturbed by our relative positions, it was overwhelmingly washed out by that battle lust of his obscuring any other emotion except psychotic elation. There was a wide grin on his blood-soaked face as he twirled his weapon, a blur of crimson rushing up to bisect me as I sped downwards. The sharp tip of his pike aimed too high to connect as I swept past him, my body landing atop the concrete with one knee, a pistol manifesting in my hand as I set sights on Bazett, barely visible in the dust.

" _Cease, McRemitz."_ I ordained, mana draining as my authority forced itself upon her as she stopped in her tracks. It was a brief expenditure, my influence lasting only as long as necessary, as I paused to take aim and pull the trigger.

Absurdly, the Master sensed it. Not my gun to her back no, but the imposition of my will to her the moment I spoke. Even as her body froze midstep, she brought her gloved hands behind her; reinforced limbs serving as a makeshift shield before freezing in place. The munitions exploded upon impact, an emptied magazine shrouding her from view in a cloud of ash and smoke.

I felt a shadow eclipse my form, and with a flick of my will the pistol was sent flying from my grip, towards Lancer, his arm still upraised for a mighty blow. A moment later the pistol nailed right across the lip, the weapon exploding half a second later, smothering his face with shards of shrapnel and gunpowder. The explosion blinded him momentarily, a brief delay that allowed me to jump upwards, only narrowly dashing away from Lancer's blow. The floor shattered below me, the tiles cracking into minuscule pieces as I spun like a saw, my foot rapidly closing in on the back of Lancer's neck.

Lancer was quick, his instinct beyond compare, and it was his awareness of the battlefield that caused him to abandon his grip on his weapon and rush upwards, guarding my blow with his free arm. Nonetheless, his reflexes were just a tad too slow, my maneuver executed too quickly and haphazardly, and my heel impacted Lancer's elbow with a satisfying crack that drew a pleasantly aggrieved sound from the enemy Servant as I dislocated his elbow. I adjusted my footing, placing myself ahead of Lancer before jumping off and racing toward Bazett's position.

But Lancer was far too canny to let me go just like that. His other hand rushed out, his weapon falling to the ground as he grabbed my ankle in a firm grip. With a wide grin he swung me around like a set of discarded garments, his foot nimbly catching the spear by its butt. His arm twisted, dragging me down unto the ground with all the strength he could muster, at the same time that he kicked the spear upwards, the spear glinting madly as it rushed towards my throat.

My hand snapped out, a hastily drawn shield absorbing some of the kinetic energy as I slapped the spear to the side, where it clattered with a metallic clang. A short-lived victory if anything, as a moment later I was made intimately familiar with the shattered remains of the floor. Lancer squeezed, his hold threatening to dislocate my ankle, as he shifted his stance and dragging me closer, an upraised leg raised to stomp on my neck. I gritted my teeth, utilizing my flight spell to suddenly and violently twist my body to the side, my foot impacting Lancer's face and dodging his stomp, whilst I desperately tried not to scream from the feeling of cartilage _stretching_ as my ankle twisted in his hand.

Thankfully, the sudden impact was sufficient for him to loosen his grip, and I blasted off away from him as fast as I could, gritting through the pain as my ankle squeezed through his grasp. Grenades manifested in my wake, primed to explode within milliseconds, and I dimly noted his hand blurring, that distinctive, ominous, clang of his spear in hand as I bolted straight ahead. Munitions exploded behind me, drowning out Lancer in a wave of flame and shrapnel, as I rushed through the miasma of ash and dust that enveloped this floor of the Tower like a virulent disease.

From the shadows came a viridescent glow, hands clasped into a hammering blow, aimed to take my head in a ferocious swipe. I adjusted my momentum, my body slipping into a semi-horizontal position as I flew beneath her ambush, catching McRemitz's feet with my body as she was sent tumbling forth into the dust. She threw a wild swing as she fell, too undisciplined and wild to do more than whizz past me, and I swept up to the ceiling and well enough away from her reach. She was still struggling to get to her feet when an array of armaments manifested behind me.

I'd seen what she was capable of with an insufficient volume of fire, capable as she was at merely deflecting and resisting them. In such a situation, anything less than overwhelming fire would be unsuitable in breaking her defenses.

A single burst of light, bright enough to briefly bare the ruins around us in a cerulean glow, before my armaments divulged their munitions in an echoing expanse of illuminated carnage. Briefly, I could see a glimmer of something by McRemitz's side, a silvery glint of something magical, before a blur of blue had Lancer standing before his Master.

A swirl of blood, his lance twirling in his hand and somehow, miraculously, the entire wave missed its mark. Its trajectory abruptly altering, a fell wind obscuring and pushing the projectiles aside, with what few that remained true to the course simply pinging away as they were deflected by Lancer's bloody spear. Explosions rocked the area around him, not a single one close to hitting the target as I felt my coat ripple in the shockwave of so many simultaneous explosions. Concrete pillars were shaken apart, ceiling plaster shredded into minuscule bits as holes were blown through the ceiling, but Lancer and his Master still survived.

Lancer flashed me an amused grin, a look of smug satisfaction that all but dared for me to do it again. I chose not to entertain his bravado, my good hand reaching up to my face as I thumbed away a flicker of blood from my lips, before gracing him with an upraised brow.

"If you were so interested in another sparring match, you could have simply asked."

He blinked at my words before a short cackle escaped him. "Oh man, that's a good one Caster. Freakin amazing, do you just come up with those on the spot?"

I shrugged. "After enough time fighting, one just gets the feel for these sorts of things."

"I suppose," He grinned, arm hanging limply to his side. "Though you're playing with more tricks than you were last time. The ghosts are one thing, but that command of yours? What's up with that?"

Despite the levity in his voice, I didn't intend to let my guard down. A dislocated elbow was nothing too severe for a Heroic Spirit. I had no illusions that I'd dealt the man any lasting injury; he could just as easily pop his arm back if necessary, only that I'd not yet given him a moment of peace to do so. It was important that I maintain this momentum, ensure that he had no opportunity to retreat and lick his wounds. The moment he or his Master would even hint that they intended to continue the fight, I'd have to attack them.

And that would be a dicey proposition at best. I certainly wasn't at my best, and even presuming that Lancer had been injured or otherwise reduced by his fight with Berserker, that still wouldn't be a sufficient advantage to balance out my current energy deficiencies. Not unless Lancer was willing to bare his neck to me and throw the fight anyway, which seemed less than likely.

"If our alliance is maintained, I might tell you." I shrugged. "I don't particularly want to fight you two, but you _did_ strike first. You're lucky in that regard you know, if those visages had truly been my companions, this conversation would be going _very_ differently."

"Good enough for me," Lancer remarked, a good-natured smile on his face. "I'd apologize about your companions, but you don't seem all that torn up about it."

I waved it away before my eyes were drawn to the figure behind him. McRemitz had been knocked down by Lancer's arrival, her body covered in dust and smog from the explosions around her as she unsteadily got back on her feet. Despite that she seemed relatively unshaken by the experience, eyes blinking quickly as she wiped the dust from her eyes.

"Enough, Lancer." McRemitz coughed, her hand reaching out for her Servant for balance, which Lancer endured with a cocky grin. "Can't you taking anything seriously?"

"Oh, I take plenty of things seriously, Master." Lancer groused, shaking his head in despair. "But if you let yourself stay so stuck up like that, you're never gonna have any fun. Fighting Caster's always such a treat, you should enjoy it while we can."

"No."

A disgusted sound from the spearman, his subsequent epithets ignored in favor of settling my attention on McRemitz. Despite the recent battle, the Enforcer seemed relatively unharmed from our recent tussle. Her suit was singed around her upper body, perhaps the result of her shattering the munitions from earlier? There were signs of cuts and tears all across her body, lacerations from stray shrapnel, though all things considered, that wasn't even close to the worst-case scenario she could have endured considering how recklessly she threw herself into battle. I waited until she'd pulled herself up completely, eyes settling on me before I spoke again.

"While our prior interactions weren't exactly warm, I didn't think they were particularly hostile either," I remarked. "For all of Galliasta's faults, he certainly knew how to choose his partners well; I'd like to imagine that even without him being an active member in our alliance, that our cooperative can continue to last a while longer."

Lancer chimed in almost immediately, a cheery grin on his face. "Well, I don't have a problem with that. I don't really like sketchy guys lurking in the shadows, doing nothing while other people do their work for them, so as long as we have that duel of ours by the end I wouldn't mind."

I quirked my brow at that, though I said nothing. Battle and warfare didn't mean the same thing for me that they did for Lancer, animosity or greater benefit didn't really factor into the equation of whether he wanted to fight someone to the death or not. He didn't really need a reason beyond a fight possibly being 'fun', which was something of a mixed bag. It meant that he was a flexible asset, content with fighting whoever and whatever as long as he considered it fun, but also meant that he needed little to no persuasion necessary to engage me in a fight. He even seemed to consider it as something of a treat, which was somewhat foreboding to hear.

"And what happened to him, exactly?" McRemitz asked, eyes set with a strange sort of tension. "You're still here, so that means he's still alive or you would have dissipated by now. Or did you dissolve that partnership, and answer to another now?"

I digested that for a moment, considering her words before I spoke. That Lancer and McRemitz's response against me was remarkable, went without saying. Barely minutes had passed since my assault, and they'd somehow managed to speed through what must have been dozens of floors to arrive at Galliasta's penthouse. It spoke to a kind of motivation that could not be readily derived from a dull, lifeless, contract. There were plenty of ways one could go about sticking to the letter of the law, all whilst ensuring that no constructive assistance could actually be offered. That she evidently operated under good faith was notable, though the extent and circumstance of such fidelity remained to be seen.

McRemitz reasoning out that I was under new management was not unreasonable either. It would be suicidal to launch this attack without some degree of premeditation and back up after all, and in any other situation, I'd agree with that assessment. But in this case, I was very much Masterless- my sole lifeline for mana the thin link between Galliasta and I made possible only by the unique mechanics of my own Noble Phantasm. I could probably explain to that to them, that I'd not sided with anyone else, and that the alliance remained; only without the middleman that Galliasta's position had entrenched himself as.

But that was incredibly dangerous. I couldn't just admit to them such a glaring weakness, not when they'd made a determined effort to kill me. They may be truly genuine, steadfast, allies and all that rot, but at the end of the day, we would eventually have to kill each other for the Grail. My attack on Galliasta had made me unpredictable and dangerous in their eyes, and that kind of reputation allowed for some degree of flexibility. If they knew that my confidence and supremacy was just a fabrication, meant to hide the very real fact that I was essentially on life support, who knows how they'd react.

A piece of the truth then, to better obscure the reality of the situation. Challenging, but not necessarily impossible.

"Galliasta's still alive," I admit. "He and I merely had a rather strenuous disagreement as to the nature of our ongoing strategy. It might have gone somewhat out of hand."

"Somewhat." Lancer whistled, a grin on his face as he surveyed the room with apparent fascination, noting the destruction I'd wrought. McRemitz herself seemed unconvinced, so I pressed forward.

"Rest assured, his removal will not adversely affect our coalition's chances of victory in the long term," I noted. "The opposite, in fact. With full access to Galliasta's resources, as well as the information I'd gathered during my reconnaissance, we should be more than capable of neutralizing the rest of the combatants with reasonable certainty."

Nothing from her at that, merely a blank, absent-minded, look as she stared around her surroundings, which I found rather irritating. I recognized the value of a stalling strategy, of course, silence was oftentimes worth far more in a negotiation than flapping one's mouth, and given the current climate, it was probably more beneficial for me to keep my mouth shut and allow McRemitz to come to the reasonable conclusion. Right now, she was probably conversing with Lancer, communicating with him and conferring his thoughts on the matter; presuming that magi were the highly rational individuals they were supposed to be, it made the most sense for her to simply go along with what I've said and spare both of us any more unnecessary grief.

But in the off chance that McRemitz was not a rational actor, that she would choose to engage me for a variety of reasons known only to her, then waiting would be the last thing I would want to do. Every moment that passed was a slowly mounting advantage in their favor; with my mana supply reduced as it was, my Noble Phantasm tied up in maintaining my existence, I would not win a protracted fight against both of them acting in tandem. As much as possible, a diplomatic answer was necessary.

"It would be unpleasant," I began, her attention drawn away from the blank, thousand-yard stare and back to me. "If we continued to work at cross-purposes. Neither of us is all that fresh; I've had a rather bracing interaction with Rider and Saber earlier tonight, while Lancer's had that little tussle by the docks, huh?"

That, finally, seemed to draw McRemitz's attention, even as a grin formed on Lancer's face. "Oh? Were you watching our fight, little miss?"

"It was hard not to notice that the entirety of the Fuyuki Docks got sent into the sea, Lancer." I explained patiently, with much the same tone as one would explain something simple to a child. My opposite number guffawed at that, shrugging in a 'what-can-one-do?' manner that I found fairly irritating. I turned away from him and back towards his Master.

"My assault wasn't exactly subtle. I can guarantee you that others have noticed and are mobilizing as we speak." I theorized. "The longer we stand here to fight after Atrum Galliasta of all things, the more likely it is that someone is going to come here to take advantage of that chaos. As much as an insufferable human being that man may be, I'm not so blind as to die for that cause. Are you?"

It took a few moments for McRemitz to respond, the magus obviously chewing through something before she finally spoke. "No."

I blinked, confused. "No?"

"You're an unpredictable factor. Your assessment might be true, but your very existence invites chaos wherever you tread."

A shrug. "The war we've invited ourselves into is inherently unpredictable. The very concept of a 'clean' war is unlikely at best, ridiculous at worst."

The Master folded her arms. "I do not intend to see this conflict escalate to one of _your_ wars, Caster. Galliasta may have had his faults, but at the very least he was capable of containing _you_. If he had been successful in this, then this conversation would not be happening."

I kept my face calm, as I considered her words. What did she know? What did she suspect? She mentioned my wars, did that mean the conflicts I fought while I was alive? Or was she aware of my efforts in the Fourth War, and considered me a danger because of that? Lancer hadn't known that I'd been summoned instead of Medea, so this was from a recent conversation; Galliasta likely pleading to McRemitz that I was controllable in one of their private conversations. A lie if there ever was one, or just Galliasta overestimating his ability, either one was possible. 'Containing' me was the last thing that man had ever really done.

And what did she mean by faults? His 'charming' personality? Or that he sacrificed children? Considering that my former Master had kept things from her, there was a very good chance that he kept her in the dark about that as well. I could ask, but the objective in this conversation was that this meeting didn't end with either of us trying to kill each other. McRemitz's guilt on the matter could be ascertained some other time, when I wasn't literally being held together by duct tape and string. The children were safe with Galliasta neutered, and if there were anymore among Galliasta's many properties, then I'd see to it that they were freed. That was what was important.

"If you're concerned with the fallout of this conflict," I began. "Then rest assured, I have no intention of this war going out of hand. Neutralization of our enemies, minimization of unnecessary casualties. That should be the goal."

She narrowed her eyes at that, her stance stiffening. "Is that so?"

I frowned, before casting my eyes to the side, looking past the dust and ashes. They'd been buried by the prior assault and the aftermath of our current battle, but bodies of Galliasta's people littered the floor. Broken bodies, blown out organs, and incinerated limbs scattered the ground, even as Lancer continued to study them with undisguised interest, his prior fascination now very much clear. McRemitz continued to stare at me, eyes steadfastly locked onto mine.

"If any other enemy had tried to assault this Tower, rest assured that the entire _building_ would have been destroyed in an effort to take Galliasta." I responded after a moment's thought. "I regret that anyone else had to die, but I was unwilling to take a chance that my former Master would utilize a Command Seal on me. I hope you understand."

She said nothing at that, and in turn, I drew my attention to Lancer. "What about you? This concerns you too, you know."

"Oh me?" He chuckled, doing a remarkably good job at appearing light and uninterested what with his broken arm. "Oh I don't make any decisions, that's not my thing. Point me at an enemy and shoot, as long as the fights are good, I can't complain."

I frowned. "...and because we're going to have to kill each other to claim the Grail, you don't mind if we're allies or not, huh?"

"Nope!" He grinned. "Just don't get yourself killed by anyone else, yeah?"

A deadpan stare. "No offense, Lancer, but if it was up to me I'd prefer you just go and get yourself killed before our fight. If it's anything like our past few bouts, I doubt I'll do much better than this."

I wiggled my foot for a moment, my ankle dangling in a rather disturbing fashion that I did my best not to pay attention to. Lancer seemed quite enthused at the sight tho, guffawing in apparent glee.

"Hah! You're killing me here, Caster. Dying before our duel? Heh! Not likely."

He snickered to himself, all useful conversation topics apparently expended, and so I glanced over to his Master instead. McRemitz seemed displeased at her Servant's apparent lack of gravitas, but Lancer relieving the tension this way was a valuable opportunity. I settled myself to her level, lowering my body until my feet were only a few inches away from the ground.

"I still don't trust you." McRemitz noted, stubborn to the end apparently. If she had anything of substance to protest, she wouldn't have said such an achingly obvious thing.

I shrugged at that. "If it helps, the decision to turn on Galliasta wasn't mine alone. Before I came here, I had words with the Supervisor of the war, and he chose to let some….rather interesting facts be known. You could say that it was by his advice that I turned on Galliasta in the first place."

A bit of a stretch, but I suppose if you squint enough then it was technically true. I doubted that Kotomine was quite so able to facilitate a manipulation to that degree; not because he lacked the aptitude for it, it was quite clear that the priest had his hands in multiple pies here. It was more that the man just had too much fun baiting and poking at me, that I doubt he was pushing me towards anything specifically. He wanted me to react, wanted me to _do_ something, and didn't quite care what it was as long as it would be interesting.

My mood soured at that. I wasn't entirely sure whether the Enforcer would have known about that aspect of his personality, but the fact that I was operating on his 'behalf' would hopefully smooth things over.

McRemitz frowned, gaze set in suspicion. "How convenient."

I shrugged. "You could give him a call if you like, though I think that-

To my surprise, McRemitz's hand immediately went to her pocket, pulling out a fairly aged cellphone, and dialing a number by memory. I blinked in confusion, sharing a look towards Lancer who, for the first time since his Master had gotten herself blown to bits, wore the most dissatisfied expression I've yet seen on him. Something like if a man had decided to walk barefooted across nature, intended to experience the early morning dew, only to step foot on a pile of dog shit instead.

Eventually, whoever was on the other line picked up, and McRemitz turned aside and shrouded her face. "Good evening. Yes, it's me, I'm sorry to disturb- Yes I've been doing well I-"

It went on like this for a moment, what I could see from the girl's expression turning from polite deferment to confusion, to shock, before eventually looking over to me with a bewildered expression, her phone mildly pointed in my direction.

"He….Father Kotomine wants to speak with you." She noted, confusion in her tone as I felt the urge to sneer at the phone heightening. Still, I knew better than to reject the call now, not when it apparently seems to have bailed me out of this conversation and took it from her hand.

"Fine." I sighed, before placing my ear to the receiver. "What is it?"

The voice was raspy and amused, his voice back to the guise of a man instead of the collection of cockroaches he truly was. "Such a pleasure to hear from you again, Caster. Did you have fun?"

I couldn't help the sneer from forming this time. "You tell me, Kotomine. I'm sure you have the Tower watched in one way or another, I don't really feel the need of summarizing something you already know."

"Ah, perhaps." He conceded gracefully. "But there are times wherein exposure to sin is interpreted differently from person to person; it is my duty, as a man of god, to then interpret such perspectives in a way helpful to the sinner."

"I don't have time for this."

"Oh but you _do_ , Caster." He said, his voice pleasant. "For if you do _not_ answer my question, then I shall tell dear Bazett that I have no idea what you're talking about and that she should simply kill you now to preserve the sanctity of the Holy Grail War. Surely you are not so irrational as to deny me a brief conversation, are you?"

My spine stiffened at that, and whatever was on my face now seemed to have Lancer in fascination and McRemitz in trepidation. "I did what I had to do."

"Oh of course you did, of course," Kotomine remarked soothingly. "It just so happens that what you had to do, also meant the slaughter of as many people as you could, didn't it? Just to be safe, to minimize the chances that poor, deluded, Galliasta would have to escape. Am I right?"

"...so you _do_ have bugs in here."

Laughter now, amused and nostalgic in equal measure. "Oh dear, no. For all his faults, Galliasta's security precautions were rather extensive, at least in certain matters. But it _does_ enthuse me that, after so many years, some things still remain the same."

I threw the phone at McRemitz, not so fast that it could be considered an act of aggression, but certainly with more force than was strictly necessary. The Enforcer caught it in her grip, confusion still evident in her face, before setting it to her ear. It only took a few moments after that for her expression to change once more, the girl nodding along with whatever Kotomine was saying until finally, the conversation was over.

"I…..I suppose I owe you an apology?" McRemitz remarked, somewhat dazed by the conversation, which was a damn sight better than how I was doing. I shook my head, brushing past her as I ignored Lancer's attention on me.

"It doesn't matter now," I remarked, my hand, the still-functioning one anyway, brushing aside a few strands of hair that had gone askew after my throw. "What matters is that this ugly incident is behind us now."

At the very corner of my mind, the visages that held Galliasta and the Command Seals in their grasp repositioned themselves to the upper floors of the Tower. They'd been at the barest edge of the Tower's barrier, hanging aloft at the outside of the building's walls. The hand had been with the visage farthest away, the one with Galliasta close enough that if I'd wanted it to, my former Master could be brought within viewing distance.

I'd presumed that, what with their response being so quick, that they were at least nominally interested in Galliasta's safety. If the negotiation had gone rather badly, I would have probably used him as a hostage of some sort. I could imagine dropping Galliasta to the ground, forcing a response from Lancer or McRemitz, thus allowing me the opportunity to neutralize the other. Perhaps a replication of what had happened with Galliasta, severing the Command Seals and allowing Lancer to wither on the vine, then thereafter establish a more permanent contract with McRemitz herself.

Thankfully, there was no need for that plan, and so it was better to just set them aside somewhere safe for now. I would deal with him later, once my appetite for talking to subhuman trash had returned, at any rate. Galliasta still had secrets close to his chest; by the time I was done with him, those secrets would be mine, with or without his collaboration.

The control room was still blaring as I entered the room, Lancer and McRemitz following closely behind. The sudden output of magical energy from both Lancer and me sending the magic sensors crazy as I paused in front of one of the sensors. I placed my injured limb in front of me, one hand on my forearm, and, with the dulled resignation of someone who'd done this far too often before, set my arm back in place.

The pain was excruciating, but with the advantage of having my back to both of them, little of my pain could reasonably be seen. I flexed my hand, testing it out for a while longer until I eventually settled myself on one of the few chairs still unmolested from our fight.

"You mentioned a plan, what exactly are you thinking?" McRemitz eventually spoke, her voice still maintaining that confusion from earlier, though it was now slowly giving way to a more professional seeming tone. Small mercies, at least; I had no intention of entertaining the woman's curiosity.

"Currently, the Three Families are in a delicate position," I noted. "The Einzberns are the strongest, followed by the Tohsaka then the Matou, with all three having various degrees of friction between each other. We can take advantage of that, set them against the other, and profit from the chaos."

A brief pause, before the girl spoke again, voice hesitant. "Easy enough to say, but those three would not have survived for this long after so many wars without some degree of cooperation. They may kill each other to secure the Grail, but the magi that they invite to participate in their ritual were never meant to be anymore more than fodder."

I nodded. "True, but there are legitimate grievances we can exploit. Matou attacked the Tohsaka Master last night, and the Matou Servant was grievously injured during the process. If we make a move to neutralize him, the Tohsaka would most likely be grateful, and we can leverage that gratitude into a combined assault on the Einzbern."

Left unsaid was that killing Rider would also allow me an opportunity to form a contract with Matou. It'd be tricky to execute, but considering the injuries Rider sustained and the experience I'd had in fighting the other Servant just now, I was fairly certain that Lancer and Bazett would be able to steamroll through her Servant fairly easily. Assuming that was a fair fight anyway, which was never a good assumption. Rider might still have a trick or two left in his sleeve.

Even if that failed, and Lancer got himself killed, that was still fine by me. I had no distinct preference between Matou or McRemitz as my Master, one was foolish enough to allow emotions to overwhelm her in the middle of an assassination attempt, while the other respected _Kotomine_ of all people, but beggars can't be choosers and all that.

"Picking off the nearly dead? Doesn't sound all that fun to me." Lancer groused, to which I rolled my eyes, turning to him.

"The Matou Servant is Alexander the Great." I remarked, which set the other Servant's eyes alight with mischief. "It's been almost twenty-four hours since our fight I think, so he's probably healed up some by now, so you're more than free to give him a shot if you like. He'll probably be happy at the opportunity."

He grinned, one hand reaching over to the other and twisting, arm settling back into place with a nauseating crunch. "Oh, that _will_ be fun. How was he?"

I shrugged, turning away from him as my hands set upon the keyboard, intent on turning down this awful racket. "Determined sort. Younger than I thought he'd be, don't suppose you like horses do you?"

"Fairly well, I'd say."

"You won't like his horse. Monster of a thing, I'm pretty sure it tried to bite me."

Lancer chuckled at that, as McRemitz ignored her Servant's sudden interest towards the Matou, turning to me. "How do you know all this, exactly?"

"I wasn't exactly sitting on my ass the entire time, you know," I remarked, my irritation from that phone call with Kotomine possibly affecting my tone with her. "I've had some amount of interaction with the other families, diplomatic overtures, and all that. I've also seen Matou attack Tohsaka, so I know there's bad blood there, if nowhere else."

"And what about the other two? The three Families, plus us, that means two more Servants unaccounted for."

"One belongs to some hanger-on in the Church, an apprentice priest or something," I noted, a final few taps on the keyboard, the alarms finally quieting down. I'd probably also have to inform the mercenaries that the danger had passed, though hopefully, Rodriguez was doing his part in disseminating the new order of things. "Emiya and his Servant may be a problem; they're aware of Galliasta's prior operations and aren't gonna have a good perspective of us. We're definitely going to have to fight them at some point, but it might be a better choice to simply delay that fight until we have the Tohsaka on our side. Saber's something of a brute, she won't be easy to take down and I prefer to tackle that one from a position of strength."

Well, Saber at least, wouldn't have a good perspective of me. I doubt she'd have any preexisting hatred towards my new partners, but I was leery of engaging her without assistance. I was out of tricks now, and if I could get Lancer to eliminate as many of my enemies as I could, then that would be the icing on the cake.

"Emiya?"

The alarm started again, and I cursed, turning to the screen. "Yes, that's the one. As for the last Servant, I know little to nothing about it. Assassin's doing a remarkably good job at _staying_ hidden, irritatingly enough. I doubt we'll catch them until they finally make their move."

From the corner of my eye, Lancer shrugged. "It's an Assassin, I doubt it'll be much of a problem. At the very least I don't think my Master would be felled so easily, would you?"

An aggrieved noise from the girl, which I ignored as I double-checked what I was doing. The alarms were meant to trigger first at the point of insertion, which would be on this floor specifically. Lancer and McRemitz had been fighting in this area as well, so whatever alarms were sounding, it should have been isolated to incidents here. And yet…..

"Just out of curiosity," I said, calming the palpitations in my chest, alarms ringing incessantly in our ear. "I don't suppose that you brought anyone else with you? Backup maybe? Or an alliance with another Servant that I don't know about?"

"Unlike you, Caster, we don't quite have so much free time to lounge about and socialize with other Masters." came the remark from McRemitz, quickly followed by a more concerned noise as she leaned closer to the terminal. "What's happening anyway?"

There was a magical reading, larger and more robust than either Lancer's or my own, approaching the ground floor. The system would have recognized its presence earlier, had recognized it in fact, but unfortunately, there was just no one else on the wheel to have noted that earlier. Not great, especially considering the rather foreboding size of that magical signature.

"Well." I began, my lips suddenly dry as the little bird in my coat pocket began to flutter against me. "I think we have company."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Apologies for the delay. I’d been dissatisfied as to my writing process and, with an eye towards maintaining quality as much as possible, adjusted a few things to compensate. On an output basis, the schedule remains the same, but a chapter's production should be much more straightforward now. At the very least it shouldn’t be as stressful, hopeful. Hope everyone likes the chapter.


	42. 5.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Deep apologies for the delay. A combination of unfortunate accidents (I had some remarkably bad fish) and unexpected factors (admission issues and such) meant that I wasn't able to focus on the chapter as much the past week, which is incredibly irritating. Thanks for everyone's patience.

5.2

I kept my face carefully blank as the pair leaned forward, interest glued to the screen and the blinking figure of what _had_ to be the Einzbern Servant. Their reactions served to accentuate the pair's concerns perfectly, an interesting dichotomy that underlined their respective interests. McRemitz's visage seemed to almost bleed with concern, a frown creasing her face as her eyes took in as much of the screens as possible. Lancer's, by contrast, seemed largely disinterested with the information available to him. Instead, his eyes were set straight against the blob of magical energy settled into the ground floor, a representation of Berserker that nearly compassed Lancer and me; if one were to disassemble the two of us into our constituent magical energy, we likely wouldn't hit even half of what that monster down there was capable of.

To be fair, I was basically limping and half-dead at this point, so that wasn't exactly a fair comparison to make. Not that equity had anything to do with the reality of the situation; I doubted that Einzbern would be particularly concerned with how 'fair' the fight would be if she decided to obliterate us after all.

"That's a Servant, isn't it? Is it him? I bet it's him." Lancer remarked, jittery with excitement. It was actually somewhat jarring; for all that the man was obviously bloodhungry, he seemed relatively calm the vast majority of the time. Now, with the promise of another round with Berserker on the table, he seemed barely capable of keeping himself under control.

Such a concern wasn't lost on McRemitz, her irritation apparent as she narrowed her eyes at the Servant. "So eager to die, are you?"

"Everyone has to at some point." He noted, shrugging off McRemitz's concern, which amusingly enough seemed only to irritate her more. "Besides Miss Caster over here, I wouldn't mind dying to Berserker. He'll be a _good_ fight, of that much I'm certain. It'd be a worthy death."

Curiously, the irritation on his Master's face turned to anger for a moment, before sublimating to something cooler, more disdainful. At least on the surface anyway. "How do you even know that's him? That could be someone else's Servant; I doubt anyone could have survived what you did to the docks, assuming you were right about the Master being there."

"Oh, I was." Lancer nodded, backing away from the monitor for a moment. One hand reached up to his jaw, miming some injury he'd suffered at Berserker's hand. "That bastard practically kicked me into the pacific as soon as I threw my spear. Then, instead of chasing after me and tearing me limb from limb, he retreated. His Master was there, I guarantee it."

His gaze returned to the screen, before he shrugged. "Which means I failed. That sucks, I guess."

It was possibly the most insincere thing I'd ever heard from him, and McRemitz seemed not to share in his humor. "...I'll have to apologize to Father Kotomine for your incompetence then, all that collateral damage for nothing."

"Not nothing, Master." Lancer grinned. "It was a great fight, I don't think I even landed a scratch on him."

A beat, before the smile grew conniving, nearly malicious. "Though if I recall, wasn't it _you_ that gave me the order to blow up the docks? I was pretty happy just duking it out with Berserker you know, yet as a good Servant must, I had to obey my Master's orders. In which case, _you'd_ be the one that had to apologize to him, no?"

"I….if nothing was done, you'd have gotten yourself killed you dolt."

Their conversation slipped through my focus as I considered the familiar in my pocket. When I'd left Einzbern's presence the familiar had stilled, the little avian construct shifting into something resembling a hibernation state without the presence of its Master. It had thus remained so, indistinguishable from a pretty set of jewelry or particularly clear glassware until Berserker had arrived mere moments ago, whereupon it had come to life.

I doubted that anything I'd done immediately after the docks would have greatly upset Einzbern, even presuming she had a way to follow me after my flight from the docks. Hearing my conversation with Saber would have shown that I'd maintained my promise to her, that I hadn't hurt Emiya as she'd insisted. While somewhat sensitive, my conversation with Kotomine would have likely been protected; irritating through the man may be, he wasn't incompetent. If a familiar had somehow managed to sneak into the Holy Church's environs, slipping past the chambers into his most private dwellings, he would have known about it and countered its effect. Presuming it could even survive what with the Church's defenses. There was an old sort of power in that place, something that made my spirit flinch away in unconscious revulsion. I doubted that a simple familiar would be sufficient in defeating that power so easily.

On the other hand, the attack on the Tower was more uncertain. Galliasta had installed certain defenses within the Tower, and while I was largely focused on maneuvering around the more obviously….verbose precautions with my attack, a lot of the more inconsequential ones likely would have been destroyed during the attack itself. Things that weren't quite important then, but were certainly important now, such as privacy charms or whatever they were called. I was uncertain as to their integrity, and thus their overall performance for the moment, which meant whether Einzbern could or could not listen in on us was just up in the air right now. I certainly didn't have the time to go through every inch of the affected floors to figure out what had and hadn't been destroyed, and while I could feasibly bring Lancer and McRemitz to a more secure location to talk, doing so without telling them _why_ was awkward. The control room was the nerve center of the Tower, and allowed us to observe the surrounding environs and coordinate with Galliasta's, mine now I suppose, kill teams. Suggesting that we pop over to the cafeteria to chat was….stretching one's imagination.

The threat of Einzbern having heard me, and making moves based on my loose tongue, was still a potential danger though. What had Einzbern heard, if anything? Would it have been sufficient to push her to some stupid, impulsive, decision? Almost certainly, considering that she would have been willing to assault me on neutral ground for hurting her brother. I couldn't discount the fact that the girl had some degree of cold-bloodedness within her either, she'd tortured that man substantially, only making a move when she was positive she had all the cards. Practically speaking, if I was in her position and had access to the same tools she did, I would have ensured that my familiar would have remained as silent as possible. What use was a spy in drawing attention to itself after all? Now that the damn bird was beginning to flutter in my coat, it was likely that Einzbern had already made contact with it, which meant that whatever was going on now may be subject to hear eavesdropping.

I couldn't help what I said before, or if she even heard anything over the alarms and defenses, but I could still ameliorate the situation somewhat. If she was listening in to our conversation right now, then my advocating for a more passive response would surely be welcome, wouldn't it? It would be somewhat difficult to justify towards McRemitz and her hound, but I _did_ say that we would only make a move with Tohsaka on our side. In a very real practical sense, attacking Berserker with our current strength would only get us killed. Surely even Lancer would recognize that, and if I could get him to agree then that meant I could likely influence McRemitz away from an aggressive posture for this fight.

"Very well." I nodded, backing away from the monitors for the moment. "What with our current resources, I think that-"

"Hellloooooooo! Can you hear meeee?"

I felt myself still, the familiar, girlish, voice echoing from my coat pocket, only slightly muffled by my coat. The conversation behind me ground to a stop, Lancer and McRemitz's lively little argument petering out as I felt their gazes settle in my direction. My mind raced, going a million miles a minute, though every thought running through my head told me that I could not look back, that to do so would be a grave, foolish, mistake.

"What _was_ that?" I heard McRemitz remarked, and I closed my eyes. I fought them before, literally just had a few moments ago, and if worst comes to worst I could do it again. Both of them were proven close combat specialists, and while I wasn't bad with that if push comes to shove, I wasn't so idiotic as to believe I could compete on that level without something tilting the odds in my favor. A straight fight wouldn't be pretty, and it certainly wasn't likely to pan out as a win on my end; it'd probably end up more like a fighting retreat through the Tower itself. I had access to its innate defenses now, I could reasonably delay and isolate them within the building, minimizing any potential damage to myself.

I paused, took a deep breath, and reconsidered the situation. If I could have, I would have congratulated Einzbern's expert maneuvering of the situation. If she'd overheard our conversation and realized that Lancer and I were collaborating? Setting us against each other would be a masterful move, eliminating two enemies with minimal investment on her part. Admittedly, I was likely overreacting. The pair behind me probably wouldn't strike at me without further proof, so if I just smothered the damn bird before it could say anything truly incriminating, I'd be just fine-

"Is that- what are those things?"

It took me a moment to realize that they weren't directing their attention to me, or to the familiar that was still so persistently trying to acquire room for itself in my coat, only the sheer size of my apparel and the relative darkness of the control room shrouding the bird's efforts. I opened my eyes again, more out of confusion than any form of relief, only to be blasted by the strange sight ahead of me.

On the screen, at the very outskirts of the Tower's range, were multiple contacts. Brimming with power, they flitted in and out of detection radius, too numerous to possibly be a Servant, too quick and agile to be aerial mages. As I watched the screens, they formed into a larger pattern, drawing in closer to the Tower and triggering even more of our proximity alarms. The sensor spiked for a moment, a minuscule amount of mana thrumming through each object multiplied by the sheer number of them circling outside.

Again, I heard her voice. Multiplied by the presence of her familiars, the blaring of the alarms, and what remote microphones were still transmitting after the recent destruction. The voice echoed out, surrounding and suffusing us with the emanations of her servants, utterly impossible to ignore.

"Well, I'm gonna presume that you can. Hear me, that is." Einzbern drolled, disdain and irritation evident in her voice. The familiar within my coat echoed her words once again, but even with my enhanced hearing, it was near impossible to pick it out from the multitude of voices that the rest of her birds were giving off. Nonetheless, I stepped closer to one of the few remaining functional speakers still present, the better to mask the sound. "Did you think that you could hide from me, how foolish!"

Sounds behind me, and as I turned around I noted that McRemitz had gone closer to the screen, eyes glued on to the three-dimensional map of the Tower. Lancer opted for a more direct route, walking off to stand by the shattered remains of the window, the faint glittering of silver lights in the distance, like shards of broken ice.

"Honestly, so foolish! To think, that you'd be so foolish as to try to kill me! Well, you've made a grave mistake! The gravest mistake you and your Servant were ever gonna make for the rest of your life!"

…..ah, well that was good. If her arrival here was less due to my own actions and due to the battle from earlier, then it was a great weight off my shoulders. At the very least, it meant that I had some options, flexibility that would allow me some degree of control over how this scenario would resolve itself.

Again, Einzbern spoke. Her tune slipping, the disdain passing some ephemeral, difficult to see threshold, that turned her words from scornful to petulant. "I mean honestly, what was that even? An Anti-Army Noble Phantasm? Against me? Really? I'm a little girl you idiots, you should be treating me with more care!"

Though…..perhaps it was the fact that, at least for the moment, I wasn't quite in danger from Einzbern's temper and was rather in the rough vicinity of it, but I couldn't help but appraise her approach. Speaking from a completely objective standpoint, she'd done well at the beginning, what with the use of her familiars to set the scene and a fairly solid opening remark, but she'd floundered in her follow up. Presumably, she'd been boiling in irritation about having been attacked for the past few hours, and had been thinking about how she'd approach her revenge, only for her to get carried away a little and start complaining.

It was a problem of her circumstance really; there was a certain degree of acceptable cadence for what you'd need to really intimidate someone, and that range was greatly reduced if one was a young girl. One had to have constant control over themselves at all times, the fact that a child's voice tends to inspire a degree of fear more in line with an irritated pup meant that steps had to be taken to ensure one's natural tone did not bleed into the conversation. A degree of energy and excitability could be excused when deliberately intimidating someone as dangerously manic energy, but not in her case.

"So it seems like I'm going to have to show you, people, some manners, and prove to you just how fearsome the wrath of the Einzberns are! We do not forgive, we do not forget! You're going to pay for this!"

She just had too much of it, that excitability of her's, and it undermined the entire intent of her speech. She was trying too hard now, the voice too energetic and excitable to really fit something intend to show any degree of scorn. If I was in her position- well there was quite a lot of things wrong she did so far, but if I was her I would have leaned in towards appearing as little like a child as possible. I'd relied on that a lot when I was alive, the contrast between my childlike appearance and displays of maturity leading towards a degree of intimidation that was rather effective, all things considered.

That being established, any slip-ups on your end could be leveraged as part of the intimidating, disquietingly uncharacteristic slips in an otherwise fearsome persona. That distance between childlike and otherwise was the most useful thing really, if the opposition could barely see your actions as that of a child, then the very act of talking and speaking in one's normal voice would be sufficient for intimidation purposes. You wouldn't _need_ anything overly dramatic on top of that; worst, going down that path was likely to backfire if you didn't know what you were doing. I'd done it enough times that it had become second nature to me of course, and while televised media hadn't quite there yet when I'd been an active combatant, I'd utilized the principles I'd learned in my youth often enough…..

Often enough….

I choked on my saliva, and it took a moment for me to gather my thoughts and recover, a slip that briefly caused McRemitz to glance at me in concern, though I didn't really pay much attention to her confused look. The girl's seriousness at the beginning, the imperiousness, the threats, surely she hadn't been trying to copy-

"If I was a less magmanaymous persona, I'd have Berserker climb that silly little thing and tear you all out of there!" She intoned grimly, butchering her pronunciation with glee. "But I can be kind and understanding too! I'm giving you…."

Her voice tapered off here, the girl's murmuring indiscernible, before spiking up again as inspiration suddenly hit her. I brought both hands to my face, the better to block out the blaring lights of the command center as I felt a headache coming on as I began to understand what she was trying to do.

"-fifteen minutes! No, twenty minutes!" Einzbern squealed, a most unthreatening sound. "You have twenty minutes to get out here and face Berserker, or he's going to tear down that building brick by brick! See ya then!"

Her purpose thus completed, the fragile shell of intimidation she'd employed cracked open to reveal the carefree child buried beneath. The familiars retreated, sensor array data showing the aerial contacts withdrawing beyond their effective range. The klaxons continued to blare on regardless, Berserker's figure not moving a single inch, apparently content with waiting by what appeared to be the Tower's entrance. A few taps upon the console had the alarms wind down, set to alert us the next time an incursion would come within range, but keeping Berserker well within sight of our systems. His figure maintained a crimson aura, throbbing with danger, but otherwise unremarkable for now.

Silence fell between the three of us as order was restored. Lancer was the first to break the silence, walking back into the room with an amused grin on her face.

" _That's_ a memorable one." Lancer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement, drawing his Master's ire. He didn't seem to particularly mind. "I almost feel bad throwing my spear now. I'll make sure she'll be more acquainted with me personally, it's what she wanted right?"

McRemitz narrowed her eyes, suspicion flooding into her glare. "Lancer?"

"Yes, Master?"

"A thought occurred to me just now. I know you couldn't possibly, _possibly_ be that idiotic, but I have to ask for my own peace of mind."

He grinned. "Alright, go ahead and shoot!"

Somehow, at the Hound's excitable behavior, I had the premonition that I knew exactly what McRemitz was angling towards. I felt the slight throbbing sensation at the sides of my head intensify, and I resisted the urge to massage at it with my hands. The Enforcer stared straight at Lancer, nearly dissecting her Servant with her gaze alone, before letting an explosive sigh.

"You didn't deliberately let yourself be followed after the operation earlier, did you?"

It was a reasonable thought. As far as Lancer and McRemitz were aware, their one and only interaction with the Einzbern Master consisted of blowing up every square inch of ground that she could have reasonably resided in a few hours ago. They couldn't possibly know that I'd talked to her earlier, or that we were on relatively friendly terms. I wasn't about to tell them that though; doing so would drastically reduce the flexibility on what exactly I could accomplish with the current situation. After all, as much as we'd come to a tentative alliance once more, they _had_ been trying to stab me a few minutes ago. For all that the challenges interacting with the Einzbern would likely involve, they hadn't tried to kill me yet.

Lancer blinked at McRemitz's words, seemingly surprised, before a mischievous grin replaced it. "Oh Master, ye of little faith. To think that you would doubt your loyal, unfaltering, Servant like this-"

"Just answer the damn question."

Laughter now, before Lancer stepped forward, settling on the chair that Galliasta had been occupying not too long ago. He leaned forward, elbow to his knee, like some lounging predator, resplendent in his own territory.

"I'm not gonna lie and say that I ain't happy about it. Berserker's fun, and fighting him twice in a row's gonna be great, no matter what happens. His Master too for that matter." He shrugged. "But that she found us isn't good, I gotta admit. It means the girl's got some ways of tracking a Servant's movements somehow, with either the idiocy or confidence to make use of it, though maybe she just has good instincts. Coming up here and challenging us isn't exactly smart, but she picked the perfect time to hit us; neither of us are fresh, now are we?"

He was staring at me now, a canny look in his eyes, before I acquiesced with a short nod. "The Tower is likely under surveillance. Hours had passed since your fight, and she's only made a move now. Odds are good that they saw us fighting and decided now was the time to strike."

"Or they saw you bombarding the building with your soldiers." McRemitz remarked, which I responded to with a shrug.

"Same difference, in the end."

Lancer continued. "So the timing's off if we wanted to win this. But the fact that she wants to fight us here? Well, that's definitely a good thing, wouldn't you agree, Caster?"

Eyes glance over to me, and I considered my words for a moment before acquiescing. "True enough. If we _had_ to fight Einzbern, the Tower's the ideal place to do it."

It was the center of my power after all. Beyond the fact that Galliasta's defenses were still active and keyed in to defend us, in both the physical and metaphorical sense, the Tower was now my Domain. I'd made it my Territory in conjunction with my Master's agreement, and had essentially taken it over once I'd neutralized Galliasta himself. There were other places less integral to the war effort, outposts and the like, that we could have lured Einzbern to in order to enable a war of attrition, but I wouldn't be able to leverage quite as much of our resources onto an enemy there. In addition, if for some reason we failed and lost the Tower, I would still have those resources to fall back on if necessary.

"I don't suggest we immediately engage her," I noted, keeping my tone steady and considering. "Neither of us is at our best right now, if we can somehow avoid a fight through diplomacy then we absolutely should. If we can have her align with us, then even better."

"She'd be a fool not to press her advantage." McRemitz snorted. "If she's confident enough with sending Berserker in here, that means she doesn't consider Lancer to be that significant a threat. The best he could do is probably delay, which'll last only as long as it takes for those two to blow up any battlefield they're on."

Lancer scoffed, a hint of irritation. "Harsh words Master, but you're probably right. Unless of course, you'd like to give me some help-"

"No."

"Ah well, worth a shot."

"Is he that powerful?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. "Berserker, I mean?"

The other Servant's eyes lit up, as it often did with anything battle-related. "Oh man, you should try to fight him Caster, he's a riot. I thought that summoning _me_ was pretty impressive, but that the Einzberns got Herakles-"

"Hercules."

"Whatever." Lancer brushed the correction off, much to McRemitz's annoyance. "Yeah, the fact they actually managed to summon him? Amazing. Spectacular. I'd suggest you go toe to toe with that one, at least once. This entire war is worthwhile for him alone."

For a moment, I thought back to the brief contact I had with Einzbern's Servant. Berserker's long, wild, mane, the near-superhuman figure, the clothing he wore- yes, I could certainly see Berserker as Herakles. Along with that conclusion came a shiver of dread- Lancer himself was a capable combatant, more than my equal in close range combat. That he was capable of delaying _Herakles himself_ was more an indication to his own abilities than anything else; I did not relish having to fight that monster, I'd do anything in my power to delay or avoid that matchup, if at all possible.

That the Einzbern summoned _him_ of all people though, was more a testament to the strength of the three families more than anything else. The Matou summoned Alexander the Great, the Einzbern summoned Herakles- what, was Tohsaka's Servant someone equally outrageous, like Odysseus or something?

…..but still, our situation was bad. It wasn't _untenable_ though, and with McRemitz and Lancer on my side, it meant an opportunity available to me that I didn't have before. Certainly, the fact that neither of them was actively trying to kill me was a step up from our prior relationship.

"How frightening," I said finally, much to Lancer's amusement.

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't believe it." He grinned. "Man's as huge as a mountain, sword as big as my-

"We're wasting our time with this nonsense." McRemitz interrupted. "If you really have to boast about your fights, do it when we're not on a time limit."

Lancer laughed. "Ah but that's half the fun in a fight anyway! But fine, fine."

She rolled her eyes, muttering something foul under her breath, which only inspired more laughter, before turning her gaze to me. "So. What's your plan, Caster?"

I blinked at that. " _My_ plan?"

She shrugged. "It's only been a few days since the war started, but I spent maybe half of it unconscious. You've been the one out and about making deals and plots, so you have a greater understanding of the strategic landscape than I do. Plus, you're the one that got us all into this mess by doing….whatever it is you did to Galliasta in the first place. It stands to reason that you wouldn't have moved without at least some idea of backup plans and all that; judging by your own legend and all. What was it again, ' _through the Holy Kaiserin's sight, all things are made manifest'_ , or something like that?"

This was an….interesting development, I suppose, but I couldn't help but give her a less than friendly look at that quote. Really, what kind of tripe had she read about me? "Apologies for the skepticism, but considering that you were at my throat mere moments ago, this sudden….outporing of faith, is somewhat surprising. Suspect even."

"Father Kotomine vouched for you," McRemitz remarked easily, as though saying that settled any doubts, instead of flaming my own towards her own character. "As far as I'm concerned that's all the proof of good faith I need. If you need proof of my own, then ask what you want. I'll strive to meet your expectations."

….that wasn't quite the sterling recommendation that the Enforcer evidently thought it was, but as far as ensuring her compliance went, that would suffice. It was a good reminder though, that as much as she was cooperating now, her fidelity to Kotomine made her a liability to me.

"Very well." I began, the bird still stirring within my coat coming foremost to mind. "Let's consider the following-"

* * *

I sighed, collapsing onto the nearby seat as I felt Lancer and McRemitz leave the floor. Credit where credit was due, of all the people I knew in this war, they might well be the most straightforward people to coordinate with, which may or may not be a fairly depressing thought, all things considered. Saber wouldn't have been caught dead in that room with me in it, Rider might not have sat still long enough for us to get any work done and I couldn't imagine what Archer would have said. Those two, at the very least, had listened fairly attentively as I spoke, the only interruptions from them being their own input on the matter. It was a fairly pleasant experience, though cooperating with a professional always was.

It was a pity though, in an ideal world, the combination of Einzbern and McRemitz on my side would be a fearsome combination, more than capable of clearing through the rest of the war with minimal issue. I wasn't entirely certain of Berserker's combat capability beyond his ability to butcher mages, but it was bound to be substantial. Lancer had apparently engaged him, only to find that Berserker was too much even for the Child of the Eire. Otherwise, he'd not have been ordered to blow up the docks in an effort to kill his Master.

And therein lies the problem. The fact that he'd laid a hand on Einzbern meant that the chances of an official alliance between the three of us were on life support. All things being equal, if I _had_ to pick between the two of them, I'd obviously side with Einzbern, but I'd regret not making even a token effort at keeping such an alliance together. The possibility of the three of us acting in tandem to quickly win the war was too intriguing an idea to dismiss out of hand, and I'd commit to at least trying to see the possibility through, though I'd have to be cognizant at what point such efforts would be a waste of time.

This wasn't even considering the fact that it wasn't so much that I convinced McRemitz to stand by the alliance, and more the fact that she was Kotomine's man through and through, and he'd all but ordered her to stay allied with me. Even with all the advantages she'd possess, her ultimate loyalty being to Kotomine made her continued allegiance suspect as a result.

Another sigh, someone wearier and more frustrated than the last. Beyond the mechanics of the current partnership, at least we have a path forward for now. Preparations would have to be made, and with Lancer and McRemitz off to settle their own affairs, it meant that I could handle some matters of my own.

New presences arrived, speeding past the elevator shaft with reasonable enough speed, and I took a final glance at the control room before I finally left. By the corner, on the seat that Galliasta had been sequestered in, was my coat. For all that the familiar was a fearsomely complex construct of magic, it was still, at least without deliberate orders to the contrary, acting as though it was a bird. Wrapped up in my coat, it could do little more than anxiously flapping away within the wrapped-up bundle of cloth, temporarily neutralized for the moment.

Without an array of visages to delay and shroud the path, as well as awareness of the actual layout, it was relatively simple to meet with Rodriguez and his men. They seemed….well, they hadn't been particularly insubordinate, at least not since the very first day, but they were particularly stiff now. The moment I came within sight of them they moved in a military salute, six pairs of feet stomping on the ground with simultaneous rhythm.

They looked nervous, so I bid them stand down. Only Rodriguez did, eyes basically transmitting his anxiety, as he stared at the surrounding wreckage with a great deal of trepidation.

"It's something of a fixer-upper," I remarked, my boot tapping the elevator car, still resting in place from whence McRemitz and Lancer had ripped it from the shaft as a makeshift battering ram. "But I think that it would serve fairly well with a few million dollars in renovations, wouldn't you say?"

Rodriguez nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am. Your changes in the decor's very...eye-catching."

Well, if he has the mindset to drop silly jokes then at least he was adapting reasonably well to the new state of things. I gave him a smile, more for his benefit than mine, before snapping my fingers and waving them my way. The Tresillo followed smartly after.

"How are the rest then?"

"Pardon, ma'am?" He asked, and there was something about his tone that made me perk up. I glanced back at him.

"Galliasta's pets. The non-Tresillo elements. Have they been causing any trouble?"

He relaxed substantially at that. "No ma'am, not for the most part. Most of the security contractors for Mr. Galliasta's properties are still on duty and have been instructed to maintain their security perimeters while standing down from all other operations. I had Southwind retreat from whatever it was they're up to, but last I heard they were having trouble with some parish, so I'm not sure what's happening there."

Hm. Well, those lot didn't really matter in the end now. Whether they fell at Emiya's hands or were sent to prison for the rest of their lives, I had very little intention of using that organization for anything truly substantial. I suppose I'd have Rodriguez gather all relevant files on them and prepare a package for the local police; that'd be something to busy them with for the next few years at least.

"Very well. What about the rest of the squad leaders, have we had any trouble?"

"Well, as you requested uh-"

There it was again, that hesitation of his returning back to the fore. I stopped in my tracks, the mercenaries behind me matching my movements perfectly. I turned to give Rodriguez my full attention.

"I don't have time for politeness and decorum, I very much prefer brevity now. Speak."

He blinked before nodding. "Most of the others are on board. Cutter, Ghost, and Sweeper are mobilized and ready for your orders, but Fang's missing. Her gear was still in her locker and her squad doesn't seem to know where she is, though I did send the rest of her squad to search for her. Maybe those other specialists, the one with the spear, got to her?"

I absorbed that for a moment before shaking my head. "No, call them off the hunt. Tell Fang's second in command that they're in charge now, and to ignore any order they'd been given or will be given by Fang if she makes contact. From now on you're to consider her a potential threat, understood?"

That Galliasta had spies in my Tresillo was easy enough to guess; in all likelihood, Fang was probably the one tasked with feeding Galliasta information about me. Given that my assault had caused one hell of a racket, followed by Rodriguez's announcement', she'd most likely jumped the ship. If she was smart, she'd be halfway through with burning her bridges and getting the hell out of Fuyuki, which was a reasonable enough precaution. Anyone that spied on the Tresillo on Galliasta's behalf, might have been subject to information regarding the kidnapped children in the first place. She'd be wise to get out as quickly as she possibly could before I could get my hands on her.

Rodriguez seemed to come to the same conclusion, or at least one close enough to waylay any inconvenient protests. He nodded, gaze hardening as he did. "Yes, ma'am."

I continued onwards, my squad following after me a beat later. "Now listen up. I want Laverne to bring her squad to the roof, she's to maintain her position there until I tell her otherwise, and is to stay there until she receives further orders. Fang's team, her former team rather- is to get out of here and go to the Parish. They're to force Southwind to disengage and to retreat to one of the other outposts nearby. There'll be two specialists on the field at least, and they're not to engage them under any circumstances. Laurent's team will fan out from the Tower and go on the lookout for a little girl matching my description. They are _not_ to engage her under any circumstances, tell him that if they do _anything_ without prior authorization, then their little exercise trip from earlier today is gonna be nothing compared to what I'd do once I get my hands on them."

The man nodded quickly at that, the importance of those tasks properly underlined to him. We passed through the shattered halls and ruined infrastructure in relative silence after that, beyond Rodriguez whispering my orders back to the rest of the Tresillo. Eventually, we reached one of the relatively undamaged rooms, my visages standing guard outside. The sight of them made the mortal men behind me shiver, though Rodriguez did relatively well in keeping his wits about him. A wave of my hand dismissed them quickly, shadows dissipating in my path as I opened the door.

There were perhaps a dozen or so of Galliasta's concubines piled into what might have once been a guest room. They were in varying states of injury, ranging from the remarkably unscathed to the largely unconscious, and my appearance sent a stir through the group. Galliasta had not been particularly concerned with maintaining the secrecy of the war, and I knew that at least a few of those present at the very least suspected my less than human nature. They flinched at the sight of me, the others nearby doing the same, and I supposed that they'd spread the knowledge of what they believed I was while my attention was occupied elsewhere.

My gaze latched on to Rodriguez, who seemed fairly shocked at the sight of them all. "I want you to take this lot away from here, bring them to one of the Shinto hideouts nearer to Kotomine Parish. Once they're all there, I want you to contact Kotomine Kirei and explain the situation, he'll deal with the rest."

Now that Galliasta had been neutralized and the Tower secure, I had little use for the man's companions, with any relevant information I could have gotten from them unnecessary what with their former employer successfully captured. I had no reason to kill them, maintaining resources to keep an eye on them seemed like a waste of time considering that they had nothing to really offer me, so the best I could do with them at this point was hand them over to Kotomine and hoped that the rotten priest would actually do his job.

I scanned through their number, absent-mindedly searching for the one that had greeted me on Galliasta's behalf several days ago. She'd not been part of the dead, at least as far as I was aware, and for a moment I wondered whether she'd come out of all this unscathed. It was difficult to really pick her out amongst the group; their makeup had run, their clothing not particularly intact. It was difficult to meet their gazes as well; I would catch their eye for a moment, fear so plainly evident in their stares, and I found myself jumping on to the next one.

Regret was not a useful emotion to feel the vast majority of the time. Considering whether something was or was not a correct decision, whether something could have been approached one way or another- I'd learned long ago that to dwell on such things was rarely helpful. Perhaps if I'd elected to neutralize Galliasta with more care and more finesse, the casualties in accomplishing it would have been drastically reduced. Perhaps if I'd gone at it with a clear head, I might have found that path. Easy things to say in hindsight perhaps, and realistically speaking the deaths or survival of these women wouldn't really matter in the long run, but it still bothered me regardless.

"Ma'am?"

I turned away from them all. "You have your orders, Rodriguez. Make sure that Kotomine handles them with care. If it looks like the priest isn't capable of that, deny him access. We'll figure out an alternative for them eventually."

They gave a hasty set of affirmations at that, and I walked away from them and set my sights back to the control room. I tarried just long enough to make sure that Rodriguez was doing his job properly before I did, though thankfully that didn't take long. Whether from loyalty to his duty, or the awareness that I could punt him from here to the Pacific with relative ease, the man was setting out to his task with admirable speed. Hopefully, should Einzbern decide to assault the Tower after all, everyone would have already been evacuated.

By the time I reached the ruins of the control room, I was aware that I didn't have all that much time. We had less than half of the original given time left, and the vast majority of that had been spent corralling my forces and ensuring that proper preparations were met.

The coat was still where I left it. I gathered the bundle in my arms, peeling off the layers until the avian was visible once more. The familiar looked rather harried, an impressive achievement for something made entirely out of crystal, and despite the complete lack of anything that could reasonably be found in a bucket meal, it acted out the part of a bird with remarkable fidelity. Which was to say, it began pecking at my arms and hands with obvious irritation, incensed at having been kept under wraps for so long. I extracted the familiar with both hands, crystalline wings fanning out in outrage as my coat flowed around my arms, wrapping itself unto my shoulders in the process.

I had doubts about how useful this was going to be. In truth, perhaps it was better to simply cut my losses, see one group or another killed, then move on to greener pastures. But something within me, perhaps that priest's analysis on my nature, held me back. Irritating though it may be to think the man right, I still had to try to see this matter settled without any more bloodshed.

I brought the bird closer to me, until its glinting beady eyes was level with mine. "Miss Einzbern, can you hear me?"


End file.
